Irreparable
by SinSidhe
Summary: Harry Potter would like a break. Unfortunately, when it comes to his life, fate is cruel. Now, he cannot rest until evil has been destroyed... At least he has eternity to do it.
1. Chapter 1

**Starts during Hogwarts Battle.**

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The two spells collided between Harry and Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's spell rebounded, striking him instead. The Elder Wand flew through the air, and Harry caught it easily, watching expressionlessly as Voldemort collapsed to the ground, dead, just like the other bodies that already littered the floor.

He closed his eyes as cheering filled the Entrance Hall, and he was surrounded by the survivors. He was jostled back and forth, people grabbing hold of any part of him as they could, and he assaulted with hugs. Harry sighed in relief. It was finally over. He could now live his live without fear with his friends.

"Harry!"

"That was awesome, mate!"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Ron and Hermione, his two best friends, as they appeared before him. They both enveloped in a huge hug, Ron patting Harry's back, and Hermione crushing his ribs until they creaked. The other well-wishers backed off slightly as the friends reunited.

"Blimey mate, that was risky! You're bloody lucky it even worked!" Ron yelled.

"Oh Harry, I was so scared!" Hermione cried.

"Guys!" Harry said with a laugh, pushing them away from him, "It worked out fine. I'M fine. And now the wizarding world has been saved, we can finally have normal lives!"

Hermione beamed at him with happiness, and Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her to him.

Harry smiled at them, laughing as Hermione kissed the redhead, causing Ron to blush crimson. That moment with his friends was by far the happiest moment of Harry's life, and he would treasure it always.

Because the moment that came after it was by far the _worst _moment in his life.

As Ron and Hermione kissed, an anguished scream was shrieked by a man whom Harry didn't know. He charged Harry.

"YOU MURDERED THE DARK LORD! YOU WILL PAY, POTTER!"

Harry raised the Elder Wand, but the man had already cast his spell, even as students slammed into him, dragging him to the ground.

"DEFODIA!"

The gouging spell slashed through the air, slicing into Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a large number of other students. The cheers that had filled the hall had been replaced by screams. Blood splattered onto the already bloodied stone floor, and student rushed to friends that had been hit with the spell, the majority of which were seriously injured.

Harry had only caught the edge of the spell, the man having been shoved to the ground during the casting, so his aim had been affected, but he had still been dealt a grievous wound. His right arm was covered in deep cuts, but luckily the bone itself hadn't been smashed. Harry dropped to his knees, clutching his blood soaked arm, and gasped, forcing himself to remain conscious. He staggered to his feet, and turned around, searching for Ron and Hermione.

"Guys, are you alright...?" his voice faded out as he looked down at his feet, which had become soaked by a dark liquid.

Blood.

He stared at Ron and Hermione as they lay on the floor. They were holding hands, and their eyes were open, but they were staring vacantly up at the vaulting ceiling.

"No..." Harry whispered, dropping to his knees, his hands darting out to grasp his friend's arms, "NO! It was over! You can't be dead! Wake up! WAKE UP!" Tears streamed down his face, and he shook their arms. They had just fallen asleep. They were fine. If only Harry could wake them up...

"Harry," a voice spoke softly from behind him. "I'm so sorry..."

Harry stared at the bodies of his best friends through vision that was distorted by tears. He stared at their features, which in death were serene and blank, clear of the emotion that had made them the amazing people that they were. He stared at their joined hands, which had remained connected even after they had fallen to the floor. Lastly, he stared and the deep, bloody gouges that bisected their chests. The spell had caused wounds so heinous, that they had been killed almost instantly.

"NO!" Harry screamed, so loud that the rest of the hall fell into silence, even the cries of the injured were quietened.

Harry sobbed, lowering his head and covering his face with hands that were covered in the blood of his friends. He took them away, and gazed down at his red palms. "NOOO! It's my fault," he whispered, and clenched his bloody fists, "My fault that they're dead..."

"Harry..." the soft voice came again, and he knew it to be Luna, this time thick with unshed tears, "It's not your fault. You didn't kill them."

At these words, Harry's tear filled, emerald green eyes became alight with uncontrollable rage. He sprang to his feet and spun around, pointing the Elder Wand at the bastard who had cast the spell, and was currently being held down by several students as he tried to escape.

He looked up at Harry with a sneer, a sneer that quickly faded once he saw Harry's expression.

"You..." Harry snarled softly, "YOU..."

The man, who Harry guessed was a death Eater, began to tremble with fear. Harry pointed the Elder Wand unwaveringly at the man, and glared as he began to beg for mercy. The students holding him down let go and backed away, knowing the Death Eater was too scared to move anyway. Unfortunately for him, Harry was deaf to the pleas, incensed as he was. This Death Eater had taken the two most important people in the world away from him. There would be no forgiveness.

He slashed the wand through the air, wordlessly casting a spell, and watched emotionlessly as the man was consumed in flames until all that was left was ashes. Harry stared and the remains before turning away, dropping to his knees beside his friends, unaware of the stares the others were sending him, and the absolute silence.

Carefully, he closed his friend's eyes, resting his hands on their faces for a moment, tears once again flooding his eyes. "I'm so sorry..." he whispered. They were gone, and he would never see them again. Harry scrunched his eyes closed in despair.

Then it hit him. He_ could_ see them again...

He jumped to his feet and lunged through the crowd, shoving anyone obstructing his path out of the way, and sprinted out the doors. He ignored the cries and shouts for him to come back, and ran for all his worth. He ran until his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, and a stitch seared his side, and still he kept running.

He reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and began to follow the path that had been carved by Voldemort and his followers on his journey back the castle. He followed the destruction until he reached his destination. The small glade just before the clearing in which Voldemort had killed him. He followed the faint presence in his mind, rummaging among the foliage until he found it. The Resurrection Stone.

Harry brushed away all the leaves surrounding the rock, and slowly he reached out for it. The second he picked it up, however, he lost consciousness.

For a time, Harry only knew pain. It seared through his veins, and scalded his nerves. It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse, and trapped in his mind as he was, he was unable to scream. Harry just wanted the pain to end, even if it meant death. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Harry awoke. He was still in great pain, and his whole body ached, but now the extreme pain seemed to be originating solely from his chest. He sat up slowly, and as he did, three objects slipped off of his chest.

He stared down at them for a second, uncomprehendingly. Then he understood.

"Oh no..."

Lying in his lap were the Elder Wand, his Invisibility Cloak, which he knew for a fact had been in his pocket the last time he checked, and the Resurrection Stone. The Deathly Hallows.

"... What have I done?"

_**Twelve Years Later**_

Harry Potter woke up to the shrill beeping of a mobile phone. He groaned and rolled across the bed to rummage through the pockets of his jeans that were lying on the floor beside it. He pulled out the device that was creating the horrendous racket, and froze as he realised the significance of this particular phone ringing.

It was an old model, chunky compared with the new sleek phones that were currently popular all over the world, but Harry had not gotten it to be used as an everyday phone. It was the phone only to be used to call him if the caller needed his help with something huge, something serious.

He sighed, rubbed his sleep filled eyes, and flipped open the phone.

"You idiots had better not have lost another nuclear bomb," he grumbled. "I will actually murder you. By the way, it's been a while, Nick."

Nick Fury sighed over the phone. "There haven't been any world threatening events since your last mission, Potter. I'm only ever going to call you if I have to. Your skill set is not something I want to become reliant on."

"And yet, here you are, calling me," Harry said condescendingly.

Fury growled, "I haven't got much choice in the matter. We need you to come in."

Harry sighed, and balanced his elbow on his knee, cupping his face in his hand. "Yeah, yeah. What did you do this time? I was serious before. If you lost another bomb, I will kill you."

Fury scoffed before continuing, "Not a nuclear bomb this time. Actually, it's something that is potentially much worse."

Harry groaned and got out of the bed. He had checked into the hotel the night before, and already the room was a mess. He searched his bag for clean clothes, and after locating them, threw them onto his bed. "What's worse than losing a nuclear bomb?"

"Losing a man capable of creating _numerous_ bombs that could devastate the planet."

"... Seriously, you guys need to get better at your jobs. You suck."

"It wasn't my people," Fury snarled, already angry from talking to Harry after less than a minute, "He was in Afghanistan doing a weapons presentation for the army. They were attacked, and Tony Stark was captured. There is no doubt that they will use him to build them weapons, and we have to stop them at any cost. A band of terrorist cannot get a hold of what Stark can create."

"So what, you want me to fly to Afghanistan and get him back? How long has he been missing?"

"Just under a month. So far we have been unable to locate him. That's why we need you to find him, using your fairy powers."

"Great way to convince me to take the mission, Nick," Harry retorted sarcastically. "It's _Wizard_ powers."

"I don't give a damn. Potter, we need you there yesterday. Get your ass to base as soon as you can. You leave immediately after briefing." The line went dead. Harry cursed and threw the phone onto the bed where it landed on top of his clothes. He took a quick shower, got dressed and finally, apparated to base.

He silently appeared in one of the many maintenance closets dotted throughout the huge Helicarrier. He opened the door and scanned his surroundings before leaving. No one noticed him exiting the closet, and once outside he immediately schooled his features into that of a professional agent. He strode past other agents, many of which leapt out of his path so as not to hinder him. Harry knew that he had become much more intimidating mostly because of the Hallows, but he had to admit that his default expression was quite fierce. The work he had done the last decade hadn't permitted him to become anything else.

After becoming Master of Death, Harry had undergone a transformation of sorts. He had grown to the height that he would one day have reached if he hadn't been immortalised, which was just under six feet, and during his travels after he left Britain to explore the rest of the world, he had discovered a way to fix his eyesight. He no longer needed glasses, and he was always thankful for that when involved in a fight. Going blind in the middle of battle could result in death. Not that he was capable of that anymore.

Harry fit right in with the other agents, dressed as he was in dark clothes and a black jacket. He had developed muscles over the years due to the training he had forced himself to endure, never wanting to be at the mercy of a foe ever again. But unfortunately, for all the height difference and muscle definition, Harry still looked to be in his late teens to early twenties. It had caused him many problems in the past, but had also given him a few advantages. After all, who would suspect a teenager of being a secret agent? Well, honorary, but only because he refused to be recruited as a permanent asset by SHIELD. He had better things to do than paperwork. Therefore, he had volunteered himself as a last resort. Fury could call upon him if they really needed him, but otherwise, they could fuck off. Harry's magic wasn't there to solve every single one of their problems.

Harry entered the bridge, and was immediately noticed by Fury who had been scanning the door for him. Fury walked over, shadowed by a female agent with red hair and a frown.

"Agent Potter, I appreciate you getting here so fast." Harry raised an eyebrow in reply.

"_This_ is the agent you were on the phone to ten minutes ago?" The redhead asked doubtfully.

Fury ignored the question and led the way to the main conference room. "That will be all, Agent Romanoff, you may return to your station," he dismissed.

Romanoff stared at the Harry. "You're a little young to be working."

"That's enough, Romanoff," Fury cut in. "Potter, in here." Harry entered the room before Fury, not even glancing at the other agent, and Fury shut the door behind them.

After typing on a computer, and transferring the information onto the rooms many screens, Fury strode over to the closest, which now displayed a map. "Stark went missing along this road. They were ambushed, and this led us to believe that the terrorist camp must be close by. I want you to sneak into the camp, rescue Stark, and deliver him to the army without the army realising you were there. You need to be a ghost. I don't want to have to deal with the army snooping around because of a magical rescuer. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, "Sneak in, grab Stark, give him to the army, be a ghost. Statute of Secrecy. It wasn't that complicated, Nick."

Fury glared at Harry for using his first name, but didn't comment. Harry was very difficult to deal with. He was stubborn, serious, and refused to follow orders that he viewed to be wrong. He was also extremely powerful, and had agreed to work with SHIELD if they needed his assistance during particularly difficult operations about five years before. Because of this, Harry was known only to the very top management. Besides, who would believe they had a wizard contracted to them anyways?

"One more thing, Potter. If you are somehow unable to free Stark, you will have to kill him. As important as he as to the army, what with his company supplying most of their weapons, we _cannot _risk him giving away secrets if he hasn't already. Keep that in mind."

Harry sighed, "I figured as much. Are we in the air or at sea?"

"Sea. We're currently situated just off the West coast," Fury informed him.

"Okay. Once I arrive on the right continent I'll be able to apparate. I should have this done within the week, and after that I better not hear from you for another seven years."

Fury sighed, "Get out of here, Potter."

Harry smiled at him mockingly before walking over to the window, his face slipping back into his expressionless mask. He opened the large window, and removed the Elder Wand from the holster around his wrist.

Over the past couple of years, Harry had spent his time improving his skills. After what had happened during the Battle, Harry had sworn to himself to never allow evil to reign again. Voldemort may not have been in control for long, but he had caused irreparable damage to the Wizarding people. Every family had lost someone, and Harry had lost almost everyone important to him. He had been unable to face the Weasleys after what happened to Ron and Fred. He blamed himself, and feared that they would blame him also, and hate him for it. That would be unbearable. So he had left them. Instead he spent his time hunting down every last Death Eater in the country until there was none left free. It was during this time that Harry had discovered his Animagus form.

He jumped up, and balanced himself on the window sill in a crouch.

"Quit showing off Potter, and get out of here."

Harry ignored Fury and closed his eyes, searching within himself for his animal form. He had discovered it about a year after he had become the Master of Death, and it was no surprise that his form reflected death.

Wizards were unable to perform magic while in their Animagus form, and over the following years, Harry discovered a way to overcome this problem. He called it Partial Transformation. Harry felt his back burn, and with a burst of magic, great black wings unfurled from his back. The feathers were black, yet slightly blue tinged, just like his hair, and in this partial form, his eyes gained the sight aspects of his animal form. His nails curled into talons, and he looked more like a bird mutant than anything else.

"Gonna wish me luck, Nick?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna wish the other guys luck, Potter. They're going to need it if you decide they need killing." With that, Harry leapt from the window, his wings catching the air with a _snap_, and he soared upwards.

When he had first discovered his animal form, Harry hadn't been surprised. The Hallows had affected him in many different ways, some of which were good, and some of which were bad. But he had to admit, his form was fitting. After all, ravens were known to be harbingers of death...

**I know 'Master of Death' Avengers has been done before, but I really wanted to try it out. I'll continue it if anyone wants me to. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as he was in the air, Harry flapped his night coloured wings furiously until he was far above the Helicarrier where it was anchored in the middle of the ocean. As he went, he cast a quick disillusionment spell, and once he was high enough, he performed a spell that he had created a couple of years before.

"Velocitatem!"

Immediately, Harry's flight speed increased, and with a loud _bang_, he broke the sound barrier. That was why he had learned how to partially transform. He could fly, but he was still capable of magic. Fury had asked him years before why he didn't just fly in a plane. Harry hadn't answered at first, but eventually, he told him.

The one, and only time he had been inside an aircraft, his magic had interfered with the planes technology, and Harry had almost been the cause of a crash that would have taken the lives of over two hundred passengers. He had been forced to apparate mid flight in the bathroom of a crashing plane, and it was an experience he would rather not repeat. The moment he had left, the plane had stabilized, but after the accident he had almost been the cause of, he had decided to avoid all forms of muggle transport. Even being on the Helicarrier made him antsy. He knew it was too large for his magic to effect, but after causing as many car crashes as Harry had, you learned to avoid vehicles.

He cast a quick Point Me spell, making sure his internal compass wasn't leading him astray. His raven form had granted him many things, improved eyesight being the gift he found most useful. He had managed to defeat Voldemort even with his poor eyesight, but with the technology muggles created improving every day, Harry couldn't afford to be at a disadvantage.

As he flew through the air, with the sea below him, and the sun warming his back and wings, Harry felt himself begin to reminisce about his life after the war against Voldemort.

It had been two years after his defeat of Voldemort, and Harry was in America. Since Ron and Hermione had died, it had become Harry's goal to hunt down every last Death Eater, and lock them away for the rest of their lives. Sometimes they fought back, Harry was to defend himself, and they ended up dead. He tried to capture, not kill, but more often than not, he was given no choice.

The Ministry was still searching from him. They were grateful to him for removing the threat of Death Eaters, but Harry knew they wanted him back and work for them, to keep them safe. Unfortunately, Harry didn't view Britain as home anymore. Without Ron and Hermione, there was nothing for him there. He still hadn't managed to face the Weasleys, and so far he had avoided all contact with the Wizarding world, except for the dark wizards that he hunted.

The Hallows had changed him a lot. He stopped aging, he was taller, and his search for evil doers and toughened him up. He was no longer the scrawny child that was bullied by his cousin and fellow students. He was strong, and the Death Eaters feared him for it. He had improved his magical skills, slowly but surely now that he no longer had Hermione to assist him, and he was just beginning to discover his Animagus form. As far as he knew, he had only gained one new magical power, apart from his increased core capacity. He had discovered it during his first hunt.

He had just located the Death Eater, and upon seeing him, the dark wizard had dropped to his knees, begging Harry's forgiveness, and asking for mercy. Harry had stared at the man in surprise, unsure as to what to do, until he met the man's eyes.

Harry had never given the phrase 'Eyes are the windows to a man's soul' much thought before that day. As he had stared at the man, he had felt himself falling forward, a sensation similar to that of sinking into a pensive. Instead of all the man's memories, however, Harry had seen only the moments where the man had committed evil. Murder, to be exact.

He had watched with growing horror as he was shown memories of the man murdering innocent people, again and again, and enjoying it. He watched the man torture muggles, and laugh.

When Harry resurfaced, he found the man crumpled on the ground. He watched as the Death Eater struggled to his feet, staring at Harry as if_ he_ was the monster. His soul was tainted, filthy.

"What did you do, you little freak!"

Harry had stared at the man, his face impassive, and he tilted his head to the side. "You have committed acts of pure evil. You must face the consequences." He raised the Elder Wand.

The Death Eater screamed with fury, all begging forgotten, and lashed out with his wand. Harry erected a shield, and the cursed rebounded, striking its castor instead. The Death Eater collapsed to the ground, dead, reminiscent of the Dark Lord's death. This was becoming a trend.

Harry had stared down at the body, feeling neither pity nor guilt. The wizard had been evil, and it was Harry's duty as the Master of Death to destroy him.

It was early morning when Harry arrived in the country of Afghanistan. He performed the Point Me spell once again, and slowed down his speed to normal. From as high up as he was, the ground should be a blur of colours, but Harry could still see it clearly, even with the faint lighting.

He found himself flying over the empty desert, and he began to search the ground. The Terrorists had most likely disguised their base, and Harry was too high up for the Point Me spell to be of much use. He was prepared to scan the ground with his keen eyesight until he detected movement, but in the end he didn't have to. He just followed the explosions.

By the time he found them and was circling the base, the air was filled with sound of gunfire. From above, Harry watched as a man encased in a suit of metal massacred what he assumed were the Terrorists. The metal man proceeded to shoot fire from his hands, and after a few moments, there was a huge explosion. Harry was thrown backwards through the air, the shockwave from the explosion causing him to flail and drop in altitude. His disillusionment spell shattered, leaving him visible, but before he could worry about that, a piece of shrapnel collided with him. Harry felt a couple of ribs snap, and he gasped in pain.

After colliding with him, the 'shrapnel', which he now saw to be the metal encased man, crashed into the ground. Harry dived after him.

Tony hit the ground, hard, and on impact, his suit was destroyed.

When he came to, Tony found himself waist deep in the sand, but miraculously, without serious injury. The suit had saved his life. He groggily pulled himself out of the sand, his hands burning from the heat, and he pondered his recent flight. He had just out flown the explosion, when he had collided with something midair. Tony rolled onto his back once he was free from the ground, and his eyes drifted shut. He had escaped his captors, but and the cost of his friend's life.

Tony felt himself begin to sink into unconsciousness, even though the sun was blinding him through his closed eyelids. He was almost asleep when the sun suddenly disappeared. Tony managed to open his eyes, but the sight before him convinced him he was hallucinating.

He could only see the outline of the person before him, as the sun was shining so brightly behind the stranger that he was but a shadow. What he _could _see was causing him to seriously question his sanity. There was the silhouette of a man, but for some reason, the man had wings...

"The Church always told me God would punish me for my dastardly deeds," Tony slurred, "Didn't think He'd send a freakin' angel though... You here... to smite me...?"

The stranger snorted, and crouched down next to Tony. "Are you Tony Stark?" a male voice questioned.

"If I say yes, are you still gonna smite me?"

The man sighed in annoyance. "I'll take that as a yes. Under all the grime and blood, you look like the photo I was given."

Tony blinked, the conversation causing him to wake up again, and begin to think coherently. Jesus, it was hot.

"Angels use _photography_?"

"I'm not an angel," the man growled. He then grabbed one of Tony's arms, and pulled him upright. Tony's vision spun nauseatingly, but he managed to remain conscience. Maybe he had gotten a _little _injured...

"Where are you taking me?" Tony asked. "I'd rather not be captured by another gang of Terrorists. It wasn't much fun last time, let me tell you that."

"I need to treat your wounds," the man said in annoyance, "Now will you _shut up_?"

Tony managed to scowl, but fell silent. Being quiet wasn't his nature, but he felt like crap, and angering what he hoped was his rescuer was not something he wanted to do. As they hobbled forwards, the sun to their backs, and the tall stranger easily supporting the majority of his weight, Tony realised that strangely, the man sounded British.

By the time Harry dragged the injured Stark far enough away from the crash site, the sun was roasting them alive. Harry would have flown them, but he had been more injured in the collision than he had previously thought. His left wing felt like it had deep muscle bruising, and his broken ribs were extremely painful.

As Master of Death, Harry couldn't die, and he also had an increased healing rate than a normal wizard. However, just because he couldn't die, didn't mean he couldn't feel pain. His present injuries weren't particularly bad, he had experienced far worse, but they were by no means slight injuries either. The broken ribs were digging painfully into his lungs, and a few others had broken the skin of his chest. He could feel a shard of bone piercing the side of his heart, and he knew that if he were a normal wizard, he would surely be dead.

When he had first heard of the Hallows, and how they made their user immortal, Harry had envisioned himself coming back to life after he had been killed. However, the magic worked nothing like that. Harry literally could not die. He had discovered this the first time an enemy had stabbed him in the heart. It had hurt, and it had really pissed him off, but it hadn't killed him. He had defeated the enemy, and the wound was gone the next day, leaving only a scar over his heart.

He could have apparated them to safety, or cast a spell to make the journey more comfortable, but even delirious, Tony Stark was a genius, and Harry was wary to perform magic in front of him. The man was a weapons manufacturer for Merlin's sake. What would a man like Stark do if he got a hold of magic?

When they were far enough away, and Stark was finally fully unconscious, Harry created a shelter from the sun. He excavated an underground cave by vanishing some sand, creating a ten foot by ten foot space, with magically reinforced walls so the sand didn't collapse inwards, about three metres below the surface. He manipulated the sand into forming steps leading down to the new shelter, and after depositing Stark inside, he cast Concealment and Muggle Repelling spells around the perimeter.

After nodding in approval at his handiwork, Harry re-entered the shelter. Stark was still asleep, and Harry used this time to examine the billionaire's wounds. None were too serious, just a couple of cuts and bruises, and while Harry could have easily have healed them magically, he didn't dare.

As he had been examining the injuries, he had become distracted by the glowing circle of light in Tony's chest. At first he thought his powers were malfunctioning, and he was viewing the man's soul, but then he realised it was some king of technology. He had immediately put away his wand, resorting to muggle first aid, careful not to touch the blue light as he was unsure how his magic would affect it.

Instead, he examined his own wounds, wincing as he saw the state of his chest. He quickly cast a couple of spells, healing his broken bones, and resealing the skin. He allowed his wings and talons to disappear, the bruising on his wing causing the transformation to be painful. He leaned back against one of the magically stabilised walls, bringing a knee up to his chest, and pulling the pouch Hagrid had given him for his birthday when he was a teenager from around his neck. He began rummaging through it, having enchanted the pouch a decade before so he could store all his important belongings within. He would have loved to just drop Stark off at the nearest U.S. army base, but even after all these years, Harry still suffered from his 'Saving people thing', and was loath to abandon Stark until he knew the man was alright.

He pulled out a backpack, a ruse to avoid questions from Stark, and then summoned two goblets, filling them with water, placing them beside him, and pulled out a flashlight. He had noticed upon first seeing stark that he looked malnourished, Unfortunately, Harry didn't have any food on him, and he couldn't make any with magic. So he waited.

A few hours later, Tony awoke, and found himself once again in a dimly lit cavern. He immediately saw that it wasn't the one he had been a prisoner in for the last month, but still, being in the enclosed space made him uncomfortable. It was better than being murdered by the sun, though...

"Good, you're awake," a voice said from the right.

Tony looked sharply in the direction the voice had come from, and saw a young man leaning against the wall. He looked to be in his late teens, early twenties, and had raven black hair with a pair of the greenest eyes Tony had ever seen. Through his fringe, Tony could see a strange scar on his forehead. He also looked dangerous, like he wouldn't hesitate to murder someone if he saw fit. Tony probably shouldn't anger the man.

"Where'd your wings go, Mr. I'm-not-an-angel?" Ahh crap...

The young man shrugged, closing his eyes.

"...Sooo, what's your name?" Tony asked.

There was silence for a few moments, and Tony was surprised when the man answered. "Harry."

"Are you British?"

The newly proclaimed 'Harry' frowned at him without opening his green eyes. "... yes."

"You're not very talkative," Tony stated abruptly.

Harry opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "And you're annoying."

Tony put a hand on his chest, feigning deep insult, "How dare you, I am a lovely person! ... YOU'RE annoying." After a moment, he added another comment, "I thought British people were supposed to be polite."

Harry bared his teeth in a slight snarl. "Why won't you shut up?"

"Why won't you talk?" Tony countered.

"I don't want to talk."

"I don't want to shut up."

Harry stared at Tony for a moment before his mouth tilted slightly upwards at the side in a faint smile. "It seems we must agree to disagree. We'll be here for another hour or so before you're ready to travel again. I cleaned your wounds some, but I couldn't do much. Here," he handed Tony a goblet full of water, "Drink."

Tony eagerly gulped down the cool liquid. "Where did you get water?" In reply, Harry lifted up a black backpack.

Tony accepted the answer. He must not have noticed it earlier. "Where are we by the way?"

"This is a small shelter about seven kilometres from where you crashed. Must have been built by some locals."

"... There're locals in the desert?"

Harry shrugged.

Tony sighed. "You're not telling me much." He eyed Harry suspiciously, "You some kind of secret agent? Why else were you wandering, or rather, flying, right beside my prison?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at how close Stark was to the truth, but neither confirmed nor denied what the billionaire had said. Instead, he said, "I'll bring you to the nearest base as soon as you're ready. Then we can both go our separate ways, and you can never annoy me again."

"So you're a secret agent, and you can fly. Are you some kind of mutant? I heard there were some illegal lab experiments walking around, but I never thought I would actually meet one... unless you're a fairy or something..."

"I am NOT a fairy."

"A mutant secret agent who dislikes being called a fairy, and despises human interaction," Tony summarised. "I read a couple of books on Psychiatry in my youth."

"You're annoying."

"I see," Tony said thoughtfully, resting his chin on his fist, "And how does that make you feel?"

"SHUT UP."

Eventually, Tony was ready to move, and they set off again. Tony was still tired, but after a couple of hours in the shade, he was feeling better. It was evening in the desert now, and Tony talked constantly, much to Harry's aggravation.

"- and_ then_, they barred _me_ from the premises. Can you believe it? I mean, what's wrong with hacking into the CIA database? Honestly, _some people_-"

"Be quiet," Harry hissed.

"Wha-?"

Harry held up a hand, and cocked his head to the side. For some reason, Tony thought the movement was bird-like...

"I hear a helicopter."

"Well I don't." Tony said, before he became aware of the faint sound of propellers. "Finally," breathed Tony in relief, "We can go home. Pepper is going to _kill_ me." Tony glanced behind him to look at Harry, but found himself alone. "... Harry?"

By the time the chopper arrived, at was to see Tony Stark standing on top of a dune, staring into the distance, a look of confusion on his face

As soon as it landed, Tony's friend Rhodey jumped out, and sprinted over to Tony. "Thank God, you're alive," he said, and pulled Tony into a quick hug, "Next time, you're riding with me. How did you escape? How are you still alive in the desert? What happened?"

"... I guess I have must have good luck."

Once Harry saw that Tony was safe, he headed home, invisible once again, and flying at incredible speeds. By the time he returned to the Helicarrier, he was exhausted, but didn't allow it to show. Once he was flying above the huge ship, he apparated inside the Maintenance closet once again, cast a few spells to remove the sand and dust from his dark clothing, removed his wings and the disillusionment spell, and left the small space, strolling to the Bridge.

Once he arrived, he saw that Fury was once again accompanied by the redhead, and headed over to them. Fury turned around, and examined him, doing his usual check for injuries. Harry looked as unruffled and impassive as ever, and Fury nodded slightly, signalling for him to speak.

"Mission completed, target now safe and in the hands of the military. I'm going now, and better not get called in for another year at least."

Fury raised an eyebrow, "If I call you, Agent Potter, I expect you to help. You know you're only brought in when things get bad, and unfortunately for you, I expect things to get bad a lot in the coming years."

"Once again you astonish me with your incredibly positive outlook on life," Harry replied in a calm and serious voice. "Goodbye, Director." With that, he walked off, not waiting for Fury to reply. The Director just shook his head, and returned his attention the screens in front of him. He watched Agent Romanoff as she hurried after Potter from the corner of his eye.

Harry had just reached the corridor that housed the closet when he whirled around.

"Could you come out already? I know you've been following me since I left the Bridge."

Natasha stepped out of the shadows, and observed Harry.

"You're a little young, aren't you?"

"You said that before, Agent...?"

"Romanoff. Natasha Romanoff. Who are you anyway?"

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "You know the way you're a secret agent?" Natasha nodded, "Well I guess you could call me a _secret_, secret agent."

"That doesn't make any sense," Natasha said with a glare.

Harry just shrugged, and opened the door to the closet, closing the door behind him. Natasha hurried over to it, and yanked it open. Her eyes widened as she took in the small cupboard that contained a broken vacuum, and a mop. Secret, secret agent, huh?

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

Nick Fury leaned back against his leather chair behind the large desk in his office on the Helicarrier. They were currently in the air, flying across the American continent, and the reason behind the journey was really pissing the Director off. He opened one of the desk's many drawers, and stared down at the old, black cell phone that was the only object inside. He carefully picked up the device, and quickly selected the only number in the phones memory. He held it up to his ear, and waited.

It rang for about a minute before there was a _click_. Immediately Fury's ear was filled with the sound of profanities. After about five seconds of listening, Fury's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Agent Potter, what the hell are you up to?"

"SECTUMSEMPRA! Goddammit, DIE ALREADY."

"Agent Potter," Fury growled with irritation, "Inform me of your situation immediately."

Fury detected the sound of an explosion before there was a cough, and Potter replied, "What? Situation? Everything's fine. I'm just, errr, a little busy at the moment. Can I call you back?"

"No you cannot. I need you to come in."

"Are you serious?" Potter demanded with irritation, "You called me only a couple of weeks ago. How could you possibly have found another world threat in so short an amount of time?" There was the sound of a scuffle and swearing, before Fury heard a dull _thump_ that he suspected was the sound of someone's head being smashed into the ground. There was a clattering sound from Harry's end. It seemed Harry had dropped his phone. Fury glared daggers at the wall across from him, waiting for Harry to pick it up again. He knew Potter was older than he looked, but really, sometimes he could be extremely unprofessional.

"Crap. Okay, I'm back. In response to your earlier request, I'm afraid that I must decline. I'm otherwise occupied presently, and I don't have the time to deal with whatever it is you need me for. Why don't you call Stark or something? I saw his suit on the television the other day."

"Potter, I'm not involving Stark in this, and the last time I called you in was over a year ago," Fury growled.

There was a pause, and the silence was filled with the faint sound of explosions from Harry's end.

"Oh," Harry said, softly, "... I guess I just lost track of the time... Pretty easy in my situation," he finished bitterly. Then, there was an angry huff, and Fury heard the distinctive _thunk _of talons being slammed into flesh.

"Potter, _what are you doing_? We have a possible alien threat, and we'll need you if this comes to a battle. We have an unidentified individual that when detained, managed to escape, and in the process defeated some of my best men. Apparently this guy is a god. We need to fight fire with fire."

There was a frustrated sigh, "You can't call me in for every problem, Nick. I'm not the solution to everything. Besides, _I'm_ currently dealing with a possible world threatening situation, nevermind your 'god' problem."

"So there _is _a situation?" Fury questioned.

"Ahh shit," Harry muttered.

"Tell me now."

"Gimme a sec." The phone was set down, and Fury allowed the sounds of a battle wash over him. If he listened intently, he could hear the faint shouts of Harry performing spells. Five minutes later, Harry returned, panting slightly. "Okay, I'm done."

"TELL ME."

"Alright! Merlin, Nick, you didn't need to shout," Harry muttered. "This morning I was hunting down a possible dark wizard when I sensed a massive amount of magical energy. I apparated to the source, a small town, pretty average, and..."

"... And what?"

"Basically, I found a shitload of zombies."

"Zombies," Fury deadpanned.

"Well kind of," Harry sighed in frustration, "They have no life force, but they're sure as hell able to attack me. They're relatively easy to destroy, but, well, the whole town was affected."

"Many casualties?"

"Fury, _the whole town_ was affected. Every last resident is now dead."

"You killed them?"

"They were already dead... They had no life force, their very souls were missing. If I didn't know any better, I would have blamed Dementors, but I know the signs of a Dementor attack. This was done by a wizard. I'm sure of it."

Fury rubbed his single remaining eye with exhaustion. The possible alien threat wasn't leaving him much time for sleep. The bastard had recruited a group of scientists, for Christ sake. He had been planning with Harry's assistance in mind. This just got a lot more difficult.

"Look, I'll try and deal with this as quickly and quietly as I can. SHIELD doesn't need to become involved with wizarding problems."

"I hope not. I already have enough shit to deal with, not including you goddamn fairies."

The Director could practically hear Harry's scowl. "_Wizards_. Why don't you wake up the Ice Cube?"

"It's not the right time. Also, Coulson is in New Mexico. If I woke up his hero without him, he'd probably quit."

"And shoot you. Look, I gotta go. Could you send some people to clean this mess up? I need to deal with this while the trail is still fresh. Good luck with whatever it is your dealing with. I'd appreciate if you didn't call me again." He hung up.

Fury lowered the phone, and gazed at it once again. "You say that every time, Potter. And yet, you always come to help us when we need you." Fury dropped the phone back into the door, and got up, striding across the room and back out onto the Bridge. Hopefully the mysterious, blonde, hammer wielding giant would be dealt with without the destruction of most of New Mexico.

Harry sighed as he shoved the chunky phone back into his pocket. He ran a hand through his raven coloured hair, and grimaced at the scenery around him.

What had once been a beautiful, small town, now resembled the battlefield from a zombie apocalypse. Bodies littered the ground, their skin pale and lifeless, and their red, blood filled eyes gazed vacantly up at him. None had escaped whatever evil magic had been cast on the town. Men, women, children, all of them, gone. When Harry had felt the equivalent of a magical bomb going off, he had immediately apparated to the source. He was lucky to have been in a hotel room at the time, out of sight of any witnesses, because he had disappeared without a moment's thought, directly into hell.

He was glad he hadn't called for back-up. Sure, the higher-ups were aware of the magical world, and Harry was positive that they knew about his past, well, most of it. Fury had let slip on a few occasions that he was aware of Harry's lack of family and friends, and Agent Coulson, perhaps the only SHIELD operative Harry had actually talked to long enough to befriend, had asked him if he needed a place to stay, believing Harry to be the age his face displayed. Harry, being in his twenties at the time, had declined, but after that, he had always tried to keep in contact with his almost-friend. Coulson didn't ask Harry about his living situation the next time they met, noticing for the first time how Harry had not aged a bit. Harry was truly fond of the man, and as he crouched beside the corpse of a young man and closed his dead, blood filled eyes, he decided that perhaps he would visit him once he had destroyed the dark wizard who had done this.

They had been dead, but still they had spoken. In rasping voices, they had called his name. Not the name his parents had given him, but the name he had claimed the moment he had picked up the Resurrection Stone all those years ago. 'Master of Death', they had chanted. They had called to him, those three words, over and over again and they tried to slash him with their bony hands that death had curved into claws. Harry had soul-searched them immediately, and had been shocked and repulsed as he discovered their souls and lives had been ripped from them, leaving mangled husks behind that were then manipulated by evil magic. Harry had been quick to end them, knowing that just an hour before, these shambling corpses had been full of life and emotions, but this was his job.

He was the Master of Death.

Someone had murdered these innocent people, stolen their life force, and now Harry needed to hunt them down. He gazed mournfully at the unnecessary death around him, and after searching the town for any life, and finding none, he slowly raised his wand.

"I hope you all find peace... Incendio!"

Fire shot out of his wand, and everything began to burn. Harry turned in a slow circle, keeping the spell going until he was entrapped in a circle of flames. Then he unfurled his raven wings, and shot into the air. He swooped around the town, burning everything in his path, and when it was done, he landed on the tallest structure in the town, a clock tower. He watched as the town was engulfed by flames, the buildings burning along with the bodies. It was the best he could do for them, as there was so many that needed a funeral. Smoke filled the sky as Harry reached out with his magic, searching for the trail. Strangely enough, the last source of magic resided on the same tower on which he was currently perched. He sensed that it was apparition magic, and with great concentration, he managed to detect where the murderer had fled to. New York City.

Harry continued to stare down at the town until the smoke became too much for him to handle.

"You will be avenged," he whispered, and with that, he apparated away.

Five days later, and Harry had no leads. He had searched the huge city non-stop, perhaps getting about an hour's sleep in the last two days. He was beyond pissed.

A dark wizard had destroyed a whole town in what Harry suspected was some kind of Life Draining ritual, so that meant an evil murderer was wandering around New York, being powered by the lives of thousands of people. With that energy, the wizard could destroy the whole city, heck, the whole state. The first day, Harry had been confident that he would be able to find the killer. It wasn't easy to hide that much power, especially since magic _wanted _to be used. There should have been a trail, but from the moment that Harry had arrived in New York, he had sensed nothing. As a last resort, Harry decided to take the advice given to him by Hermione all those years ago. Check the library.

Like Britain, America had a secret society of wizards, but unlike Britain, there was more than one wizarding school. Over the years Harry had come into contact with a couple of magical communities, mostly during his hunts for dark wizards, but he had never stayed long enough to be recognized. He was not as famous in America, his battle with Voldemort being more than a decade earlier, but even so, he never took the risk of his identity being discovered, and the Ministry coming to find him. He had heard they were still looking for him, mostly just to discover whether or not he was still alive, but Harry didn't want them to. He wasn't sure he would be able to control the guilt that had plagued him since that night long ago.

After arriving in the States, Harry had made a point of memorising all the cities that had a high wizarding population, and therefore the areas where there were wizarding communities. He liked to be up to date with the goings on of his fellow magical folk. Lucky for him, there was a street a couple of blocks to the west that was said to house a small pub, a few shops, and most importantly, a library, all exclusive to Harry's kind.

It took him a while to navigate the unfamiliar city, but an hour later, he was standing on a street filled with garishly dressed individuals. There were no robes, for which he was thankful for, as if there had been, he would have stood out, dressed in his dark jeans and hooded t-shirt. His fellow wizards wore modern clothes, but made more extravagant, with bright colours, and strange accessories. Harry just sighed. You could change the century, but you couldn't change the insane fashion sense that seemed to be ingrained into wizards at a genetic level.

He glanced at either end of the street, observing how the muggles would pass the narrow street by. Someone had obviously cast some pretty powerful unnoticeable charms during the streets construction, and Harry doubted even SHIELD knew about this street. Then again, they had known about_ him_...

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, flipped up his hood, and set off down the street, gracefully avoiding the witches and wizards that were laden with oddly shaped packages. Shopping. A concept he had yet to fully comprehend. He reached the end of the street, and found himself in front of a medium sized, blue building. It was the library, if the mounds of books filling the windows were anything to go by, and hesitantly, Harry entered.

Inside, it was quiet, with only the faint sounds of pens scribbling on paper, and pages being turned. A woman with her hair tied back in a tight bun was seated behind the counter, and Harry carefully slipped past her, silently, not wanting to gain her attention. She had reminded him too much of Professor McGonagall. He reached the bookshelves and quickly lost himself in them. The small library had nothing on the Hogwarts library, but it felt good to be surrounded once again in textbooks of magic. He located the shelves that housed the historical documents, and after grabbing the books that contained information from the past hundred years, he lifted the heavy pile over to one of the last empty desks, and immediately delved in.

It was painstaking work, but Harry found he was enjoying it. He discovered a lot about the American magical society that he had not previously known, and he kept having to redirect his concentration, constantly losing himself in random accounts when he was supposed to be searching for information on the murderer. He had already been searching for hours, the sun having set long ago when he found something. He had almost given up, seeing as how he had reached the last book that contained the history from one hundred years before, but it seemed the wait had been worth it. There, on the last page, was an account from a witch who had been a young girl during the year the book was about. It was the same date as five days earlier. He read the passage carefully, and then read it again:

_It was a massacre, pure and simple. We had been staying the night in a muggle town, returning home after a day of trading in the city, when the evil came. We awoke to the sounds screaming, and Father told myself and my sister to stay inside. He and Mother grabbed their wands, and after casting protection spells on the room, went outside to see what was going on. Myself and my young sister Mary, against our parent's orders, decided to look out of the window. We had been warned to stay away, but we were children, and we were curious. What I saw that night still haunts me to this day, even though forty years have passed. Even now, I do not fully understand what happened to the people all those years ago, but from the perspective of a nine year old child, it seemed like the devil himself had decided to destroy the town._

_The townsfolk, who earlier had been so kind and welcoming, now ran to and fro, screaming in terror. Some of them, unlike the others, wandered aimlessly along the streets, shambling along like they were being controlled by a puppet master. Every time they approached one of the townspeople, he or she would run away, screaming, unless their escape was prevented. At first we did not understand, but as soon as we caught sight of one of the shambling individuals, we too knew only fear. His eyes were red as blood, no life or mercy, and as we watched, he knocked down a running woman, clamping a hand around her arm. We didn't know what he was going to do, and in the end he did nothing, just stood there._

_And then the man cloaked in white appeared. _

_His face was covered by a hood, but immediately I knew him to be a man. He placed a hand on the woman's brow, and there was a flash of white light. When she turned around, her eyes were as red as her captors. She was released, and limped away, her once beautiful face vacant, almost as if her soul was gone._

_I tugged Mary away from the window, and we hid under the bed. I held my sister that night, trying to shield her from the screams of the townspeople, and the horror of what was going on outside. By morning, all was silent. _

_We were discovered a day later, still hidden under the bed, having not moved an inch. We were then brought to a nearby town that had been worried by the lack of contact with its neighbours. We tried to tell them what had happened, but none of them were wizards. We were the only people found in the town that day, the red eyed ones that no one believed us about seeming to have fled._

_We never saw our parents again._

Harry stared down at the page, and his stomach filled with dread. It had happened before? One hundred years before? How was that possible? The perpetrator would have to be immortal!

Harry hurried over to the shelves once again, and quickly grabbed the books that contained the history of two hundred and three hundred years before. After frantically searching them, he discovered that on exactly the same date, every hundred years, what had happened just days before, and to the woman and her sister, a town was destroyed in the same way. Each account was different in how the destruction came about, some direct accounts by a lucky survivor that had managed to stay hidden, and some accounts coming from those who had discovered the towns the day after, missing all its citizens except for the rare corpse. Sometimes, everyone was 'converted' simultaneously, and sometimes it was dragged out, like what had happened to the woman a hundred years before. In all accounts, however, one detail was always present.

_Eyes filled with blood_.

The 'zombies' he had destroyed five days before had had those red eyes, and Harry knew that he had witnessed history repeating itself by his count for approximately the eighth time. Harry rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, causing his hood to slide off. He stood up, stretching the muscles that had fallen asleep through his prolonged sitting, and began to return the books to their shelves. He was just putting the last one away when there was a gasp to his right.

His head shot up, his emerald green eyes meeting dark blue before the blue flitted back to his forehead. He realised that his hair had parted slightly, leaving his scar in full view, and with a curse he tugged the hood back up.

"Ha-Harry Potter?"

"Shit," he muttered, before he silently apparated away. With his luck, the 'Potter Sighting' would be all over the wizarding news by the next day. It was time to leave New York.

But first, there was one last thing he had to do.

He appeared in the alleyway opposite a nondescript white building. Harry hurried across the street, shoved the buildings door open, and strode inside. An equally nondescript man was seated behind a plain counter, and without a word, Harry placed his hand on the counter. The metal under his hand grew warm, and with a faint _whirring _sound, and a section of the wall to Harry's left slid open, revealing a long corridor. The man didn't even glance up from his computer as Harry entered the corridor, ignoring the faint humming of the wall sliding shut once again.

After about a minute's walk down numerous stairs, (they really needed an elevator), Harry reached the offices of the New York branch of SHIELD. Hey, even spies had to do paperwork. Harry wandered through the many desks, failing to catch the attention of every agent present, and smirking as he reached the door at the opposite end of the room. Without knocking, he strode inside.

Phil Coulson looked up from the paperwork on the new Mexico incident he was currently filling out, and smiled blandly at the black clothed figure as he dropped into a seat in front of him, and propped booted feet on top Coulson's desk. Coulson just sighed, and shook his head, returning to his paperwork. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only other person in the room.

"What the hell? Who the hell is this guy?" demanded Agent Clint Barton from where he was seated on top of the tallest piece of furniture in the room, the filing cabinet.

"Just ignore him, Clint," Coulson replied, smiling slightly as he noticed that Agent Potter's chin was now resting on his chest, "Look, he fell asleep."

"Yeah, I got that. Who is he?"

"Classified."

"Phil, come on. Give me something. An alias, his codename?"

Coulson sighed at Clint's curiosity. In many situations, it made Clint an excellent spy, but right now, it was just annoying. "He has a codename," Phil said, "And you've probably heard of him. I believe they use him as an example for younger agents of what do to in the event of situations that involve nuclear bombs."

"Holy shit," Clint muttered, "That's the Grim?"

Phil smiled at the mention of the name. It was sentimental to Agent Potter, but the reason why was something Harry had yet to reveal to him. "Indeed. You'd do best not to wake him up. I understand he's been on a mission for the last week, and knowing Grim, he hasn't slept since he started."

"I'm sleeping now," Harry mumbled in irritation, blinking at him blearily.

"Harry, you able speak? I thought there was some complicated reason behind your lack of a greeting. It seems I was mistaken," Phil said neutrally.

"Shut up, Phil," Harry muttered.

"Any reason why you're here?"

There was an awkward pause.

"I, err, just wanted to say hi?"

"You want me to do your paperwork," Phil corrected.

Harry pushed his hood back, and gave Phil his best puppy dog look. Coulson stared at him, unmoved by the expression. Harry gave up, and sighed. Coulson noted the dark circles under Harry's bright green eyes, and saw that his suspicions were correct.

"Go get some sleep, I'll sort it out." Harry smiled slightly, and closed his eyes again, immediately asleep once again.

Coulson sighed and took out another form, starting to write up what Fury had told him after his conversation with Harry on the phone a few days before.

"That's really the Grim? The best agent SHIELD's got? He took down a terrorist operation in one day when they were armed with a nuclear bomb?" There was a pause. "He's really young," Clint observed.

Coulson almost laughed. "First rule they teach you, Hawkeye. Appearances can be deceiving."

**Extra long chapter because there's only one update a week for this story. I should really be studying for exams, but I updated instead. Ahh well. Review and whatnot, thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back, exams are over, here's an update! Your patience is being rewarded. Also, I'm pretty sure I got asked a few questions in reviews, but I keep forgetting to answer them... eh he, sorry about that. I'm pretty sure most questions will be answered **_**eventually**_** at SOME point in the story. On a more awesome note, JEEPERS CREEPERS that's a lot of followers, and I only wrote 3 chapters. I feel so loved :P**

News got out about the murderer a few months after the first massacre. Harry had been expecting the humans to find out about it, the government can't hide everything, but he had thought people would find out because of a different reason. Not because another town was butchered.

Harry surveyed the blood covered town. After he sensed the impulse of death, he had apparated instantly, once again out of the hotel room he had been staying in for the last couple of days. He had grabbed the chunky, black phone that was his only connection to Fury before he disappeared. Upon his arrival in the town, he found it a barren wasteland, no bodies this time, but he knew there had been plenty murder. The stench of death permeated the air, and when he broadened his senses beyond the norm, the taint of evil was apparent. He apparated around the town, not convinced that it was empty.

But he failed to locate even a single body, and his forehead scrunched up in confusion. He had only felt the 'death magic', as he had come to call it over his months of investigation, barely five minutes before. How was it that an entire town of individuals could be murdered and vanished in so short an amount of time? Only one conclusion. Extremely dark magic.

But this attack was wrong. All the historical records he had managed to find clearly stated that the mass murders occurred only once every hundred years. What could have happened to cause the evil bastard to attack again barely a year after his first attack?

After finishing his search of the town, this time failing to detect even a hint of the dark wizard's corrupt magic, he sighed with frustration. Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. This made no sense. Why would the bastard break his pattern after over half a millennia? He raised his wand, preparing to raze the town to the ground, when his sharp hearing picked up the faint sound of helicopter propellers.

Harry swiftly summoned his cloak into his hand and draped it over his shoulders, flicking the hood up over his face, shrouding himself in invisibility. He waited patiently, and a minute later, he spotted the offending aircraft as it came to a stop over the town. He squinted, and after finding himself unable to read the side of the helicopter, transformed his eyes into their animagus form. Human eyesight changed to that of a bird, and he was finally able to read the words.

Oh shit. Reporters.

Harry cursed under his breath, and silently apparated into the aircraft, thankful that he managed to avoid knocking into anyone with his sudden arrival. Now all he had to do was cast a simple Obliviate, and then-

"- coming to you from a live transmission of this small town with which we unfortunately lost contact. We are in the town for an interview but all radio interaction with the town has been lost. We have decided to investigate, as this interview will give extremely important information to you, our viewers. Pilot, what can you see from- GOOD GOD!"

Harry winced, knowing that she had just spotted the blood soaked, vacant street.

"Are you getting this, Phil? What the hell happened? We were talking to them only ten minutes ago! Quick, get a shot of this!" Harry was screwed. Why did they have to be filming live?

Suddenly, the helicopter creaked ominously, and it jerked abruptly from where it hovered in the sky. Harry's eyes widened as he realised what was going on. He immediately apparated out, back to the empty building. He watched with baited breath as the helicopter swerved downwards for a moment, before straightening out, now free of his magical interference. He considered charming the landscape, but discarded the idea. Anyone viewing the news show would already have seen the state the town was in. His only hope now was for SHIELD to become involved before the government agencies ill equipped to deal with this kind of problem took over. He fished the phone out of his pocket, grateful for the simplicity of the device which allowed him to use it without it spontaneously blowing up in his face. He selected Fury's number.

It beeped for almost a minute before there was a _click_.

"Nick, we got a situation here-"

"Well I've got a bigger situation, Potter. Get your ass to the Helicarrier RIGHT NOW. Headquarters has been compromised."

"Wait, _what_?" Harry demanded.

"The Tesseract has been stolen, by a man wearing a CAPE, and HQ is now a big crater of rubble and scrap metal. All units are being withdrawn to the Helicarrier, and that includes you, Harry. We are now at our most vulnerable, and I need all my men here to defend the Helicarrier. The amount of shit we got on here is capable of destroying the world."

"When it rains, it pours. Look Nick, I've got a problem here too. Another town was attacked, same as the last one, but the trend is warped. So far it's been one attack per century, and now there's been a second in less than a year. Either whatever spell this guy cast to lengthen his life is failing, of he's amassing more power for some reason. The amount of energy created from this many murders... Nick, this is gonna get real bad, real fast."

Fury swore, and there was a tense silence, before, "Alright, Potter. Do what you need to do. But I want you here before the week is over. If you don't find anything, it will have to wait. We've got a hostile alien life form with a grudge. This is threat we might not be able to deal with without your 'area of expertise'."

"Understood. And you might what to use that influential power thing SHIELD's got going..."

"What. Did. You. Do."

"I didn't do anything," he scowled, "Reporters got to the town after ten minutes. Apparently there was some sort of newscast supposed to be going on when they lost contact. They came to investigate, and I hadn't cleaned up yet."

Fury swore again, and even Harry's eye twitched at the creativity of the word combinations. "This day just gets better and better."

"Well, at least you still have your health," Harry deadpanned.

"I got shot in the chest."

"..."

Harry hung up. He had hunting to do.

And that hunting failed. Harry snarled to himself as he left the maintenance closet and stalked down the corridors in the direction of the Bridge. A week of useless searching. No knew leads, no knew historical accounts, no TRAIL. To put it lightly, Harry was pissed. Battle hardened agents scurried out of his path, his bad mood mixed with his magical aura setting of alarm bells in their heads even if they didn't know why.

He eventually reached the Bridge, his mood darkening further as he took in the individuals seated at the conference table. Fury stood at the front, a scowl to match Harry's on his forehead. Coulson was standing behind him and smiled at Harry as he walked in. Harry nodded curtly back. Then there was Stark, obviously doing his best to irritate everyone in the room. The Ice Cube, now unfrozen, (spandex?), was seated beside him. There was also a big blond guy that Harry didn't know so he kept an eye trained on him in case he proved himself to be a threat, and a dark haired man that looked like a scientist. Harry kept him in sight as well. Appearances could be deceiving. Lastly, the lovely Agent Natasha Romanoff, who was glaring at him. Great.

"Agent Potter, glad you could join us, take a seat. How was your mission?"

"Bloody brilliant," Harry growled. "No trail, no witnesses, nothing. I had a _lovely_ week, Nick, how 'bout you?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Terrorism, explosions, death. Right up your alley."

Harry rolled his eyes, and sat down at the table, nodding at each of the already seated members. "I'd like to say it was a pleasure, but it's really not."

"Grim," Coulson said with a sigh, "Be nice to your new friends." Harry scowled and shook his head. Coulson's sense of humour was so messed up. Harry examined him. Something was wrong.

"You're the Grim?" Natasha asked incredulously. Harry ignored her.

Tony was about to ask what 'the Grim' was, before he was interrupted my Fury.

"What's-"

"Stark, shut up."

Tony looked indignant, "Well _that's_ not very nice. I'm _pretty_ sure you asked me to help you. If you hurt my feelings, I'll hack into your database and sell all your information to the press. By the way, way to be a bad friend, Mr. Harry the Mutant Secret Fairy Agent. You don't call, you don't write. I was beginning to think something terrible happened to you."

Harry's eyebrow twitched with irritation. "Something terrible did happen to me. I had the misfortune of meeting you."

The Captain laughed, and stood up, walking over to Harry and to shake his hand. "The name's Steve Rogers, Agent Potter. I see your already acquainted with Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you. Coulson's been explaining the organisation to me. I hear you're their best agent."

Harry shrugged, his face blank. He hadn't actually done that many missions for SHIELD, but the few that he did were always completed within a week of being given to him, and done perfectly. The fact that they had been world threatening level missions might also have something to do with it...

After a couple of years doing the odd assignment and sometimes going to his office to do paperwork, he became aware of his new status. He hadn't been pleased by the title, knowing that it would make it harder to stay inconspicuous, so Fury had made a compromise. Only the top agents knew his name was Harry. All the rest knew him only as The Grim. He was positive most of them didn't get the whole 'magical creature of death' reference, and no one knew the true story behind the choice, not even Fury. He hoped that Sirius was proud of him, wherever he was...

"This mortal is your top agent?" the big blond asked sceptically. "He looks very young."

Harry levelled his best glare at the blond giant, and the man leaned backwards in his chair slightly before he could stop himself. There was something dark in those emerald green eyes.

"Agent Potter is the best agent we have, Thor, don't be fooled by his youthful appearance." Fury glanced at Harry for a moment and after seeing the short nod, he continued, "He actually turned thirty two this past July."

"What?" Steve exclaimed, "But he looks barely twenty!"

"He's a freaky bird mutant," Tony said wisely.

"That's not a very nice thing to say, Mr. Stark," the scientist man said in a soft spoken voice, "There's nothing wrong with being a mutant."

"I didn't mean anything bad, Bruce. This guy helped me out in the desert when I was a captive of those terrorists a few years back. He can grow big-assed wings whenever he wants. I guess it was _mildly_ impressive."

Harry raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Fury. He didn't actually expect Harry to _work_ with this moron, did he? Less than a day in the desert with the man had almost made Harry insane. Stark didn't know how to stop talking.

"You're from Britain?" Steve asked curiously, paying no mind to the claims of being a mutant. "You have a pretty strong accent."

Coulson laughed at this, "Yes, he failed every test when it came to masking his nationality. Quite entertaining, really."

Harry's scowl deepened. "If you're all finished discussing me, could we please continue with the meeting? I don't particularly want to be here. I've got a guy I need to murder right now."

Fury cleared his throat. "I agree with Agent Potter. As you know, we apprehended the Asgardian terrorist known as Loki earlier today due to the combined efforts of this team. We are now in possession of the staff he uses to control his slaves, but as of yet we have gotten no information on the whereabouts of the Tesseract. Potter, I want you to interrogate the prisoner. Try to get the whereabouts of Agent Barton while you're at it."

"Some sort of 'slave staff'? Hawkeye got turned into a zombie-slave-thing, didn't he?"

Fury's face tightened at the memory of Barton's clouded eyes. "Yes, he is currently under Loki's control. I would prefer if we apprehended him, but if that is impossible, you are given permission to terminate him. The Tesseract has huge destructive capabilities, and I'd rather an insane alien didn't gain control over it."

"That is my brother you are talking about," Thor grumbled menacingly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "He's Imperio'd Hawkeye, and I'm almost positive he won't have supplied Barton any filing cabinets to perch on. I swear, Clint was a pigeon in a past life. I him a couple of times this past year. Nice guy. I am... _displeased _... on his behalf." Harry's eyes flashed dangerously.

Thor cleared his throat and nodded slightly, muttering about adoptions and the like.

"Dr. Banner," Fury said to Bruce, regaining control of the situation, "I want you and Mr. Stark tracing the gamma radiation on the staff as fast as you can. Romanoff, you go with Potter for the interrogation. The rest of you, prepare yourself for battle. An attack could come at any time. Dismissed."

Everyone got up and began to head for the exit. "And Potter?" Fury called.

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, his bangs shrouding his eyes, "Yeah?"

"Don't kill him."

Harry frowned slightly, an almost petulant expression on his face, throwing Romanoff off guard. Were Grim and Fury... friends? She didn't even know Fury was _capable_ of making friends. He usually just ordered people around or shot them. "Can I kill him a little bit?"

Fury glared before sighing and giving into the temptation to smirk. "Very well. You may kill him a little bit... For the filing cabinet." Harry gave a casual salute, and left the room, Natasha beside him.

"So The Grim is a mutant," Natasha stated blandly. Harry shrugged, not giving a vocal response. "I didn't think there were that many mutants." Again, Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to say anything otherwise, so if that's what the rest of them wanted to think, who was he to stop them? This way he could perform some types of magic, such as his animagus form, and pass it off as a mutation. It was perfect. "Anything else you can do?"

Harry sighed. "Few other things. Does it really make a difference?"

Natasha stared up at him, "It depends. How useful will you be in a fight? War isn't the same as sneaking around and assassinating targets."

Harry glared at her, and she allowed shock to flash across her face.

"I know more of war then you ever will," Harry hissed, his voice gaining a slightly serpentine quality. As he realised this, he cleared his throat and scowled, then walked faster, leaving Natasha to hurry behind him. Agent Romanoff frowned thoughtfully as she walked after him, staring at his back. She had gained a new piece of information through her manipulation. He had taken part in a war. Curious. She wondered which one.

When they reached the Containment room originally built to hold the Hulk, and saw the dark haired man standing within, Harry raised an eyebrow. So this was Loki. Huh.

"I'll make sure the systems are running correctly," Natasha said, and walked over to the control panel. "Loki's a deceiving bastard, it'll be difficult to-"

She turned around and immediately pulled her gun. Potter was inside the cell. How was that possible? Loki was staring out at her, an expression of confusion on his face, when Harry said, "Mind if I join you?"

Loki whirled around to find himself no longer alone. "How did you gain entrance to this cage, mortal?"

Harry tilted his head, and wordlessly cast Muffliato with the wand that was hidden up his sleeve. "You Asgardians," Harry drawled, narrowing his eyes, "So quick to call me mortal. I find it offensive that you call us 'mortal' as if you yourself were immortal. I'm positive that I would be able to kill you," he said softly, "It wouldn't be that hard. In fact, I _know _that you are mortal. To be immortal means 'to be unkillable'. I'm afraid, Asgardian, that you aren't quite as powerful as you believe yourself to be. IfI were to, I don't know, stab you enough times, you would eventually bleed to death, wouldn't you? With your advanced healing and, hmm, what's that smell? Magic? And ice? Well, it might take a while, but in the end, you would be dead. As dead as any human."

"Who are you?" Loki demanded, glaring at the man before him.

"Now that's a difficult question," Harry said with a dark smile, "My names Harry, but this organisation, SHIELD, they call me the Grim. You know, great black dog, signifies death? Pretty accurate in my opinion. And others, well, they called me the Chosen One. I didn't much like that name, wasn't partial to The-Boy-Who-Lived either. Been called some other things. Parselmouth, just 'cause I like chatting to snakes. Been called Lord, you know, not that important."

Loki stared at him, a calculating look in his eyes. He had assumed the green eyed man was an average human, but now as he paid more attention, little details were starting to become obvious to him. The ageless quality to Harry, the quiet presence of restrained power, the graceful way he moved, seemingly always ready for a fight. Perhaps even deadly. Loki glanced at the woman outside the cell. She had a mortal weapon pointed at him. How dare she challenge a God? His lip curled in distaste, and glanced back at Harry. Then he slowly stepped backwards.

Harry stared into his eyes, and smirked. "Still convinced you're a God, are you? Perhaps this will change your mind. In a flash of movement too fast for Loki's eyes to keep track of, a dagger slammed into his shoulder. Loki gasped and gripped his wounded shoulder, but remained standing.

"Pathetic mortal," Loki snarled, "You think this will kill me?" He scoffed, "This is but a scratch."

Harry tilted his head to the side again, in an oddly bird-like movement. "Oh really? Well then, we'll have to fix that." He gestured his right hand at Loki, the arm with the wand hidden up the sleeve, and whispered, "Sanguine."

Loki cried out as the wound began pumping blood, more so then should be possible with a wound as pathetic as the human had inflicted on him. One little knife, harm a God? What sorcery was this? He fell to one knee, desperately trying to halt the blood flow.

Harry gazed down at him, a look of distaste on his face. He waved his hand again, and the flow of blood stopped. Harry grabbed Loki's head, and forced him to stare at the puddle of blood he was kneeling in.

"You should remember this, Loki of Asgard," Harry snarled in a deadly voice, "Gods don't bleed."

"What are you?" Loki demanded in a harsh voice, experiencing slight shock at how easily the human had harmed him.

"I'm a mutant. You know, science experiment gone wrong."

"Do not attempt to deceive me," Loki snarled, "I am the Prince of Lies."

Harry raised a dark eyebrow. "Nice title you got there. I wonder... perhaps you have heard mine?" He narrowed his eyes, "Its a name I gained by accident, but I have come to believe over the years that perhaps I was destined to claim it. My life was definitely shitty enough for it to suit me..."

"Spit it out, human," Loki snarled at the Harry.

Harry smirked, "Human? ...I am no such thing. I lost the right to call myself that years ago. I am the Master of Death."

All the colour left Loki's already pale face.

"That is impossible... An old wives tale told to warn children away from seeking power."

"A fairytale on Asgard. How quaint. Didn't seem to work on you, though," Harry observed, "And as interesting as this conversation has been, I want answers. Where is the Tesseract? Where's Barton?"

Loki just laughed. Harry sighed, "The hard way, then. Legilimens."

Loki's laugh turned into grunt of pain. Harry had been loath to perform the mind art. His Master of Death powers only focused on well, death. Pretty much useless when it came to information gathering. Even after all these years, Legilimency still brought back bad memories, and Harry disliked using it, even on an enemy. Physical torture was one thing, but invading someone's mind was crossing a line. Unfortunately, he didn't have any other option.

Harry scanned through the last couple of days, and froze. Quickly, he cancelled the silencing charm.

"Romanoff! Tell Fury! They're going to attack-!"

He was interrupted by an explosion.

**So, it's been a while, but I'll be able to update more often over the next three weeks. Perhaps even three updates a week? :O How does that sound? :P Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the support. Review if you want :) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry I haven't updated this week. I wrote about a thousand words for this chapter and then the laptop broke and THEN relatives came over and I went to an anime con/party thingy instead of staying inside and writing :L Once Christmas is over I'll update lots. CHRISTMAS! WHY YOU MAKE ME SO BUSY?**

Harry cursed creatively as he flew across the cell, managing to use his magic to halt the unexpected flight before he struck the glass walls. THAT would have been problematic...

"Potter! Get out here!" Romanoff yelled as she leapt to her feet and sprinted over to the nearest computer, typing into furiously while simultaneously holding a hand up to her communicator. "Director, do you copy?"

Harry apparated out of the cell after giving Loki a murderous look. The Asgardian slowly got to his feet, smiling mischievously as explosions reverberated through the Helicarrier.

"Romanoff, Barton and an attack force are on the ship. They've taken out an engine already, and if the plan has gone as it is supposed to, Banner's as pissed as hell. You know what that means. When you get a hold of Fury, tell him I'll deal with it. You need to find Barton, knocking him out might break the mind control."

"You can't go after the Hulk!" Natasha snarled, "Are you insane? He'll rip you to shreds!" But Harry was already out the door. As he left, he called one last instruction.

"Send people down to guard the prisoner. They're coming for him."

With that, he was gone.

Harry darted and swerved through the mass of agents fleeing what he could hear was a fierce battle, punctuated by the roars of a furious beast. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end. 'Banner,' he thought grimly.

Arriving through a large archway , Harry was greeted by the sight of Thor being tossed across the room like it was nothing. Harry was concerned when he failed to see Thor emerge from the wreckage, so he did what any insane idiot with a death wish would do. He charged the Hulk.

Seeing that Thor was down for the moment, Harry pulled out his wand, immediately firing every curse he knew at the beast. To say the least, he was extremely surprised when every spell failed. He was contemplating whether or not the Hulk was made out of dragon hide when he was thrown across the room by a huge fist. He grunted in pain as he felt a number of ribs crack, and he became extremely irritated when his he collided headfirst with a metal wall. He slid to the ground in a heap, lying still for a moment before struggling back up. It was rather difficult, what with the amount of broken bones he now had, (he was pretty sure his skull was fractured), and the pain had him swearing fiercely. Fortunately, or unfortunately in Harry's opinion, the impact didn't knock him out. He was pretty sure it couldn't. The Hallows were a curse, but they did give Harry a few advantages when it came to battle.

Once again on his feet, Harry cracked his neck, and wiped a crapload of blood off of his face. Most of it was from his head wound, but he had bitten his tongue when he hit the wall. He spat out some blood, and placed a hand on his chest, shoving a rib that was poking out back in. Not the best way to deal with it, as he was sure any doctor would be quick to scream at him, but a rib sticking out of his chest would be a hindrance in a situation such as this. At least know he knew he couldn't use magic on the Hulk. Something about him made him immune to it, and while that pissed Harry off immensely, it also meant that he might be able to have fun in this battle. Shooting something from afar got the job done, but Harry had grown fond of the thrill that a fight brought him. This was the perfect time to use the tricks he had invented in his time hunting down dark wizards.

He looked up, and saw the Hulk begin to advance on him, only to be distracted by a huge hammer slamming into his face. The green monster roared in anger, spittle flying from his mouth, and spun around, his focus once again diverted.

Thor was back.

Harry used this time to cast a few spells on himself. Most wizards would think these spells to be useless, perhaps even barbaric, but then, the wizarding people, to put it lightly, were rather useless when it came to actual hand to hand combat. They relied on their magic for everything, never even considering doing anything without it. After leaving the Wizarding World and entering the Muggle, Harry realised that magic wasn't the answer to all his problems. He couldn't use it in the open, what with the amount of cameras and such devices the non-magical people had created, so he had learned how to defend himself.

And so he used spells that he himself had invented. Spells to increase his speed and strength, the force behind his attacks, and also his senses so they could keep up with his rapid movements. Once that was done, Harry let his animagus form take over halfway. Raven wings shot out of his back, his nails morphed into talons, and his is eyesight increased even more so. Time to get to work.

Harry shot across the room, his wings propelling him through the air, causing him to move so fast that to the human eye, he was a barely a blur. He collided with the Hulk with an almighty crash, and as they flew through the air, Harry dug his sharp talons into the monsters green hide. The Hulk bellowed, and swung around wildly, trying to dislodge him, but Harry refused to let go. Harry snarled with fury as large green hands tried to grab him, obviously planning on crushing him to a pulp. He leapt backwards, flipping in the air so he landed in a crouch. The Hulk swung at him wildly but he spun out of reach, causing the Hulk to roar again. He grabbed for Harry, but he dodged again. More grabs, more punches, but Harry evaded every single one. The Hulk was become more incensed with each passing second, and a Harry couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled from his mouth. He couldn't help it, he hadn't had this much fun in years. Finally, a battle against a worthy opponent. Magical solutions didn't take much time, and so it was rare for Harry to face someone who was actually a challenge. But fun aside, the Helicarrier was under attack. He had had his share of amusement, and it was time to end it.

With a flap of his wings, Harry shot into the air. He soared upwards, and just as planned, the monsters head shot up after him, exposing its neck. Quick as a flash, Harry zoomed down, wrapping his arms around the Hulk's thick neck. Without further ado, he began to squeeze. The green rage monster roared his fury until his air ran out. Harry imagined he was quite confused when he found himself unable to breathe in any more. The Hulk made wild grabs for Harry, but he managed to duck and swerve out of the way of most of them. A flailing fist managed to catch one of his wings which hadn't been furled quickly enough, and Harry winced at the distinct _crunch_, and the following agony. Another green hand grasped at the arms wrapped around its neck, but it was unable to dislodge them. Harry clenched his teeth tightly, ignoring the pain, and continued to choke the Hulk.

After what felt like hours, the green monster dropped to his knees, arms falling limply to his sides, and he fell forward, faceplanting onto the hard, metal ground. Harry gasped as he was thrown forward over the beast, who was now reverting back to human, agitating his broken bones in the process. He curled up onto his side, putting an arm out so as to alleviate the pressure of his sensitive ribs coming into contact with the ground.

"Friend! You are injured!"

Harry groaned, and opened his eyes which he hadn't realised had fallen closed, his gaze falling on Thor, who was crouched over him. "Shit, really? I didn't notice."

"Then it is even more serious than I thought," Thor announced with worry. "Can you move?"

Harry resisted the urge to facepalm, and nodded, slowly sitting up, and clenching his jaw to stop himself from crying out.

"These wounds are life threatening! By Odin, one of your ribs is protruding from your chest! You should be dead!"

"Pffft, been there, done that," Harry said, absently shoving the rib back into his chest, more than slightly annoyed that it hadn't worked the first time. Thor recoiled in shock, and Harry rolled his eyes. "What, it's just a rib. You should have seen the time I had to fix my neck. Some bastard managed to slit my throat, and I had to hold it in place until it healed back together. Not the most pleasant of experiences, but it was an interesting life lesson. 'Avoid sharp objects'. Would you mind realigning my left wing? I broke that, too."

Thor just stared at him, before shaking himself to clear his thoughts, and gingerly grabbing hold of the injured appendage. He carefully moved it back into place, stopping when he heard Harry's hiss of pain, but kept going when all he received for his concern was a glare.

Once it was in place, Harry let his head droop slightly. He had endured a lot of pain over the years, but wings were by far the worst. Until it was healed, he couldn't transform back. Well he could, but it would be even more painful, and Harry felt that he had taken enough hits for the team that day. He got to his feet, and shook out his arms that were already purpled with bruises from throttling the Hulk. With that thought, he cautiously approached the unconscious form of Banner, lying naked on the floor.

"Dr. Banner?" he asked. The man didn't stir. Harry slanted his eyes sideways at Thor, and after seeing that he was looking at Banner rather than at him, allowed his wand to slide into his hand, and wordlessly cast Enervate.

Banner woke with a gasp, grasping his pale unblemished throat. "What- where am I?" Then his eyes fell closed, and Harry could practically feel the self loathing flow off of the man. "... How many people did I kill?"

Harry tilted his head to the side in a bird-like action, and his attention turned inwards. "No fatalities, but a few injured. Thor and I kept you occupied. You alright, Banner? It took a lot to knock you out. Also, you have no clothes."

Banner looked surprised at the question about his welfare, but shook his head, signalling that he was fine. "It takes a lot to harm the Other Guy...How did you beat him?" He then looked down at himself, and blinked. "You don't happen to have a blanket or something, do you?"

Harry smirked, and snapped his fingers at Thor. "Hey, give him your cape."

"What?" Thor asked with indignation.

"Your cape," Harry repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child, "He needs it more then you. Give. Him. The. Cape."

Thor didn't look pleased, but he unfastened the cape, handing it to Banner, who wrapped it around himself gratefully.

"About how we knocked you out, I choked you. Everything, no matter how tough, needs to breathe. It was the only option after every other offensive attack failed. Sorry about that."

"You strangled the Other Guy?" Banner demanded incredulously, "How-"

He was interrupted by the beeping of a cell phone. Harry pulled the monstrosity that masqueraded itself as a phone out of his pocket, and after checking the number, he held it up to his ear. "Who is this?" he demanded.

"Grim," came Coulson's voice, "We got a situation down here. Loki's out of his cell. I'm going in, but I would appreciate back-up if you're nearby. We can't let him get away."

"Don't go by yourself!" Harry yelled, but Coulson had already hung up. Harry cursed and dropped the phone. Ignoring the calls of Thor and banner, Harry sprinted away, running as fast as he could, which was pretty damn fast thanks to the spells he had cast on himself. By Merlin, he better not be too late. Coulson was only a human after all.

It took him two minutes to get back to the cell at the speed he was travelling. The halls were clear of agents this time, and for that he was thankful. He arrived outside the cell, choosing to blast it down with a hurried spell rather than wait for it to open, and leapt into the room in time to see Loki raise his staff in preparation to slam it into Coulson's back. Harry acted without thinking. A Gryffindor reaction.

With a yell of fury, Harry was across the room, and knocking Coulson out of the path of the strike. Unfortunately, that but Harry into its path. The weapon sliced into his chest causing Harry to yell in pain. It was as though liquid fire was being poured into his chest. Harry had never experienced such agony, even under the Cruciatus Curse. What the fuck _was_ that thing.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Loki murmured, "Unexpected, but not unwelcome. I suppose this is my revenge for your mistreatment of me earlier. I would enjoy prolonging your suffering, but I see that you are dying. Master of Death. How foolish was I to believe such lies..."

Loki smiled triumphantly as blood gushed from Harry's mouth. He was about to yank the weapon out of his chest when Harry did the unexpected. He laughed.

Slowly, a bloodied hand rose upwards, and grasped the blade that was lodged in his chest. "You know," Harry said before he coughed violently, "I've been stabbed a number of times. I have to say, though. This alien weaponry really beats the rest. Being stabbed by that staff thing is absolute torture. But not good enough." With a fierce yank, the blade slid from his chest.

"Impossible!" Loki snarled, his face contorting into rage, "That pierced your heart!"

"Who said I needed a heart? I'm unkillable, you psychotic bastard. Getting stabbed hurts, but other than that, meh."

Loki staggered backwards. "No! It is a fairy tale! A-!" he was cut off when Coulson shot him with his massive bazooka-ish weapon thing. Loki flew backwards and collided with the wall, but managed to keep a hold of his staff. With a snarl, he got to his feet, but was hit with another blast. He smashed into the wall again, this time denting it.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Coulson asked dispassionately, keeping the huge weapon pointed at Loki. Rage contorted the Asgardian's face, and he looked as if he was about to retaliate, but then thought better of it. Instead, he snapped his fingers, and disappeared in a swirl of green.

"Ahh shit," Harry muttered as he slumped unceremoniously to the ground. He hissed as he felt his heart begin to beat again, and blood began to pump out of the wound on his chest. "Fury's gonna kill us. Well, you."

Coulson dropped the huge gun to the ground, "You don't look that great."

Harry laughed, and more blood spattered the ground in front of him. "Well seen as how I've been stabbed, punched, back handed, concussed, and had the majority of my ribs and my wing broken, I'd say I'm entitled to looking like shit."

"Humph," was all Coulson said, knowing that Harry didn't like being fussed over. From past experience, he knew Harry's wounds would heal themselves in a short amount of time, but the stab wound that Loki had inflicted didn't seem to be healing as fast as it should be. Harry had already noticed this, and just sighed, which caused him to cough again.

"I hate alien tech," he muttered.

"This is the first time you've ever encountered it," Coulson commented, brushing a hand over his suit jacket. "Thanks for coming. Pretty sure you just saved me from becoming a human shish kebab... even if it was by turning _yourself_ into a shish kebab. Was that really necessary?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, which looked extremely strange, seeing as how he was soaked in blood, all of which was his own. Thank Merlin for black clothing. "I didn't really think it through. You were gonna die, and I had to save you. A friend of mine used to tell me that I had a saving-people-thing."

"What does she say now?"

"The dead don't speak." Well, not unless he wanted them to. Harry's thoughts turned to the Resurrection Stone... the one Hallow he had yet to be brave enough to use. When he had gone to the Forest that night with the intention of calling them back, it had been out of desperation. After he had awoken from the change into something other than human, he hadn't felt like he could face them. He had let them die, and now he was immortal. What would they think of him? They were dead now, and he wouldn't bother them with the problems of the living... Not when their deaths were on his conscience...

"Look, don't mention it," Harry said, trying not to get too distracted by the sensation of his chest begin knitting itself back together for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "It would have killed you, couldn't kill me. Not much of a sacrifice, Phil. I'd have done it for any agent."

Coulson smiled at him slightly, "I knew there was a reason I tolerated you."

Harry scowled, and then smirked, "Saving all your fangirling for the Cap.?"

"And all the gratitude vanishes..." There was a ringing sound, and Coulson pulled his phone out of his jacket. "It's Fury. NOW he calls me." He answered the call, "Director. Yes, I'm fine, sir, but Loki escaped. Potter's here too. Alright." He put the phone on loudspeaker.

"Potter," Fury growled, "Report."

"The Hulk has been dealt with, no casualties caused by him. A few agents were killed in the explosions that took out the engines, and in the firefight with the hostiles. Loki tried to kill Coulson. I arrived on the scene while Coulson confronted the prisoner, and in the fight that followed, I was incapacitated. Loki escaped. I take full responsibility."

Fury cursed, "Potter, tell me how seriously you're injured. I was under the impression that you couldn't _be_ incapacitated. I've seen you get shot in the head and just walk away."

"That staff Loki has fucked up my magic. I think it would be wise if I avoided alien tech for the remainder of my existence. Is the Helicarrier repaired?"

"Stark and Rogers fixed the problem. We're not falling out of the sky anytime soon. If your able, I need both of you on the Bridge. Loki's going to strike again, and we need the Avengers to function as a team, not a group of five year olds. I was hoping you would help convince them to get along. How wounded do you look?"

"He looks like he just got hit by a bus, and then took a swim in a bucket of red paint," Coulson supplied calmly.

"Good, we can use this to our advantage." He hung up.

Harry rubbed his face tiredly before staggering to his feet. "Bastard..."

"Well at least you're alive," Coulson supplied, "If I had died, he probably would have used my death to motivate the team. Every cloud has a silver lining."

"Sometimes I hate my job. Actually, I always hate my job."

By the time Coulson led an unsteady Harry onto the Bridge, the Avengers had already assembled. Each sat in one of the chairs around the table, and Harry could practically feel the animosity radiating from them.

"Potter, Coulson, take a seat... Jesus, Potter, you're a mess." The others turned around, and openly gawked at the sight of the blood soaked wizard.

"What?" Harry asked, feigning confusion, wiping his blood covered chin, "Is there something on my face?"

"Sit down, Potter." Harry sat, awkwardly positioning his healing wing into a comfortable position, scowling at the so called 'Avengers'. When he reached Natasha, he asked, "Barton alright?" She gave a swift nod.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tony sputtered.

"Him," Harry said, pointed at Banner, "But Loki is responsible for most of the blood. Bloody annoying fucker, that one. The worst God Complex I've ever come across, and believe me," Harry said darkly, "There was some stiff competition."

"Your mutant powers give you accelerated healing?" Stark asked with interest. Harry shrugged. Giving Stark any more information seemed like a bad idea."Hmm, interesting. You know, I hacked into SHIELD's database. Found out lots of interesting stuff. Plans for turning the Tesseract into weaponry, which, admittedly, was rather worrying, but it was the information about SHELD's agents that interested m the most. Tell me, Harry James Potter, are you seriously a wizard?"

Harry stilled, eyeing the billionaire sardonically. "A wizard? Is that what I'm classified as? That's a sucky codename."

"Cut the crap, Tinkerbell. There were files about your 'communities' as well."

Harry sighed, and leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "... I hate muggles."

Fury looked like he wanted to murder Tony. "You told us you only saw the files about the Tesseract."

Tony shrugged, "I lied. It was pretty mean of you to mislead us like that. I mean, a mutant? Why not just tell us you were a wizard?"

Harry glanced at Fury, "Can I Obliviate them, _please_?"

"No," he replied shortly, "They might as well know. This way you can use your full skill set in front of them without the fear of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. The American ministry gave us permission to reveal their existence to the high level agents."

"Wait a goddamn minute," Rogers interrupted, "What the heck are all of you talking about? Wizards? But they're not real!"

"I concur," Thor announced, "My people would know if such a species existed on this planet. The only beings capable of magic manipulation are Asgardians. To claim that humans possess such power is preposterous."

Harry kept staring up at the ceiling, fuming inwardly. This was why he hated working with other agents. They asked questions, caused complications, and the next thing you knew, you were growing attached to them. It was one thing for Harry to be on friendly terms with Fury and Coulson, and after their first meeting, to a lesser extent, Barton, but harry refused to be involved with this team of morons. Well, intelligent morons. Stark _had_ hacked into SHIELD's computer crap. Harry couldn't do that. His Master of Death enhanced magic just blew stuff up. Except his phone. Goddammit, where was his phone?

"Perhaps a demonstration?" Romanoff asked. Harry was annoyed by this. He wasn't a circus entertainer. Also, now he couldn't mess with Romanoff anymore by disappearing in closets and such. That had been so amusing...

"I don't want to," Harry growled, "I don't even like you people. It's not like I'm going to work with you. Why should you need a demonstration?" Coulson raised an eyebrow at the 'Don't even like you' comment, knowing how much Harry would do to save their lives if they were ever in danger. It was who he was.

Fury cleared his throat, "Actually, you will be working with them. I want you to join the Avengers Initiative. Loki will attack sooner rather than later, and I want you to be there to stop him."

"No," Harry growled.

"That's what the others said as well. See, you fit right in. And this isn't an option, Grim. You're working with them whether you want to or not. Someone needs to make these idiots work together.

Harry glared at Fury, and he glared back. Finally, Harry sighed angrily. "Fine, but I want a holiday after this. A decade long one."

"You still have that mass murderer to catch," Coulson reminded him.

"I hate my life so much..."

"So, proof?" Tony asked excitedly. Rogers frowned, as did Banner. Natasha kept her face blank, but Harry could see she was interested. Thor stared at him, obviously reluctant to believe that his people weren't as all knowing as he had previously thought.

"Fine," harry snarled. He deftly pulled his wand out of his sleeve.

"You expect us to believe you perform magic with a twig?" Thor scoffed, "That is-"

Harry turned him into a toad.

"..."

Tony looked from harry, to the toad, and then back to Harry. "What? No magic words?"

"Those are for amateurs."

And then there were two frogs.

"Any more questions?" Everyone shook their heads, "Well then, let's go catch Loki. I have stuff to do."

**Again, sorry for the long wait. Hope you liked the chapter, it took me two days to write rather than one :( CHRISTMAS IS SO DISTRACTING? Anyway, thanks for reading, review if you want. Hope you all have a great Christmas.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Dia duit! Conas atá tú? - irish :3 IM TEACHING THE WORLD!  
So anyway, this chapter was really hard to write for some reason. Took two whole days DX And it's reeeally long -_-**

"Potter, turn them back," Fury ordered, rolling his one remaining eye. Harry scowled at him, but complied, albeit reluctantly.

"Is your curiosity satisfied?" he asked the two men sarcastically, suppressing amusement caused by the twin looks of shock, "Do you need any more evidence?"

"NO!" Thor bellowed, obviously traumatised from his time as an amphibian.

Stark was blinking rapidly, gazing at Harry's wand uncomprehendingly, "That's not possible. I was a frog. Impossible."

Harry raised his wand, but Fury interrupted before he could curse Tony again. "Did you not just say you had 'stuff to do'? As soon as you catch Loki, you can be on your way, Agent Potter."

Harry gave him a nod, and propped his booted feet on the table. "Fine, I'll stay here while the others get their jet ready." He waved his wand over his clothes, repairing and cleaning them.

"Time is of the essence, Potter," Fury growled, but stopped when Harry pointed at his chest and then at the wing still splayed behind him.

"Nick, I just got stabbed and almost beaten to 'death'. I'm going to have to fly alongside the jet 'cause it'll crash if I get on it. For that, I need a working wing. Unless you wanna carry me there?"

"Everyone but Potter, get ready. You leave in ten minutes."

As they hurried away, Fury dug a small device out of his pocket, and handed it to Harry, who took it warily. "What's this?"

"A new version of our SHIELD communicator. Hypothetically, it should function even on your person. It rejects all energy from outside sources. It should be unaffected by your magic."

Harry placed the small device into his ear. "If this blows up my head, I'm slapping you in the face."

The Director laughed, and held a microphone up to his ear. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Harry yelled out, and fell off of his chair, cursing wildly. "MERLIN! YOU BROKE MY EARS! Why is it so loud?!"

"Next time, Potter, try not to mentally scar my employees. The consequences won't be pleasant."

"Banner," Romanoff yelled from the front of the plane, "Where does that thing say Loki is?"

"Stark Tower!" Banner called back, "Whatever he's going to do, it'll happen there!"

"Why my tower?" Tony whined, flipping up the visor of his helmet so everyone could see his pout.

"Maybe because you're the only one of us _with_ a tower?" Steve replied.

"Yeah, it must suck to be poor."

Barton and Romanoff, who were piloting the plane, were the first ones to notice the appearance of the portal.

"What the fuck," Barton breathed. Natasha said nothing, but Barton's words summarised her thoughts. A flash of black at the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head.

"Looks like Grim caught up."

Harry's voice came through the earpieces of everyone in the team. "The Tesseract has opened a portal. Hostile alien life forms sighted. Land and head towards Stark Tower. We need to contain this and close that portal as soon as possible. We need to find Selvig, as he's the one behind the Tesseract harnessing technology. Captain, organise your team and deal with the civilians. Things are about to get bloody."

The Avengers all exchanged glances, each of them wondering who would survive the battle to come.

Harry flew towards the Tower as fast as he could. He gritted his teeth as he watched hundreds of reptilian-like creatures exiting the portal. He cursed himself as he flew. He had never been to Stark Tower before, and so he couldn't apparate directly inside. He contemplated flying straight into the portal, and seeing if he could shut it down from there, but dismissed those thoughts when he saw what was on the other side. It looked like open space, and he decided that he would rather not experiment on whether or not the Master of Death could function in such a place. No, he needed to find Loki. If he took down the leader, the rest of the army would have nothing to fight for. It had worked with Voldemort.

His thoughts were interrupted by his senses going haywire. Death was coming. The deaths of numerous residents of New York City.

But only if he did nothing.

"Damn it," he snarled to himself, and hurtled towards the ground, furling his wings tightly to his back, wincing as the previously broken one protested such vicious movement so soon. Searching the ground below him, he spotted the first aliens to pass through the portal, the Chitauri, if he remembered correctly, land on the ground, raising foreign weaponry in order to strike down innocent people.

Harry hit the ground, his wings unfurling at the last second, slowing his landing. A shockwave of light shot out of the Elder Wand, and all Chitauri in the vicinity fell to the ground, deep gashes gushing blood decorating their bodies. What a delightful spell Sectumsempra was...

Harry charged forward, firing spell after spell at his enemies. Every single one struck its target, and a feral smile made its way to Harry's lips. The Chitauri, seeing the threat they faced, regrouped, and began firing their guns at the wizard. A simple Protego blocked the tiny missiles, and Harry enlarged the shield so as to protect the people huddled in the shops lining the street behind him. With that, he leapt out from behind the shield's safety, countless spells leaving his wand, sometimes even two at the same time. Enemy after enemy were felled by Harry's magic. It was fun, finally using all the offensive spells Harry had learned over the years, and Harry lost himself in the frenzy of battle. Death followed him wherever he went, the sight of him and his raven wings causing his enemies to experience fear they had never thought possible.

"Grim!" a voice called from directly behind him. Harry whirled around, his wand already pointed at their throat. He managed to stop himself before a spell left his wand.

"Rogers, don't sneak up on me,"

"I thought you were going after Loki? Stark says he's in the Tower. Look, you're wasting time here, we'll handle the rest."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Fine, I'll head to the Tower now. Wasn't my fault I got distracted. Speaking of distractions," he said, looking over the Captain's shoulder, and pointing at Stark, who was flying around the corner of a skyscraper, "Your friend found one." A massive creature flew out behind the armoured man, causing Steve to spin around and ready his red and blue shield.

"Dear God..."

"I'm sure he'll handle it," Harry asked with a smirk.

"I don't think a suit of armour will help against that thing."

"Maybe not," Harry shrugged, "But the Hulk might."

With a ferocious roar, a huge green blur shot passed the two men, and charged the alien monster before them. Tony flew past them in the opposite direction, landing a short distance behind them now that his task of leading the monster to them was completed.

As it flew closer, the Hulk bellowed out his challenge, and the monster changed target, aiming for him instead. It flew down, its huge mouth opening to tear the Hulk to shreds. Instead of that happening, the Hulk jumped onto its head, slamming huge fists into its skull, crushing its brain and halting its progress. The beast, now quite dead, fell from the air, crashing into the ground with an almighty _thud_.

The team could only gape at the scene before them. None of them had expected the Hulk to take the monster down that easily. Even Harry could not help but gawk at the green creature as he turned around, and lumbered over to them, looming menacingly when he stood before them. An animalistic growl left his lips, and Harry saw that whatever control Banner had inside to direct the Hulk after their enemies was waning.

"Good job, Banner," Harry said, stepping forward, "Think you could take out some more?"

"Potter, back away slowly," Tony murmured, questioning the sanity of SHIELD's supposed 'best operative'.

Harry ignored him, choosing to continue staring into the Hulk's eyes. He saw recognition flicker across the Hulk's face, and knew that he was recalling their last encounter.

"You help us out, and we'll have no problems. Attack us, and I'll end you," Harry said, his voice growing dangerously soft. The Hulk glared at him, lips curling into a snarl, before he nodded jerkily. Harry nodded back. "Alright Cap, Fury said you're the leader of this group of misfits, and Hulk here has decided to play on our team. I'll let you designate jobs and such. See you after I mutilate Loki." With that, he took to the air, leaving Steve and Tony standing before the massive Hulk.

Steve cleared his throat. "Stark, let's get back to work. You take the air, and I'll take the ground."

Tony gave him a him a mock salute, "Sure thing, Capsicle."

Steve then turned to the Hulk, and pointed at him. "Smash."

The feral smile he got in return was terrifying.

Harry headed for the Tower, once again back on track. The huge portal hovering in the sky far above it caused him to shiver in disgust. He could feel the energy coming from it. The base energy wasn't ultimately evil, but paired with whatever energy the aliens had used on the other side, it was enough to make his flesh crawl. From what he could see, the machine on the roof was protected by a strange force field. It would undoubtedly cause pain if he came into contact with it, so he would leave finding a way to stop it until after he had dealt with Loki.

Speaking of the Asgardian, Harry watched as he and Thor had what appeared to be an argument. Harry was a second away from landing when he saw Loki stab a hidden blade into Thor's side. Without further ado, Harry shot the green caped villain with a blasting hex, causing him to crash into the huge windows lining the balcony, catapulting him straight through them. Harry caught Thor as he staggered, clutching his side, and the sound of glass shattering filled the air.

"That bastard," Harry hissed, his voice distorting slightly because of Parseltongue, "I'm going to kill him." He carefully lowered Thor to the ground, casting a quick Diagnostic spell, and breathing a sigh of relief when seeing the wound wasn't too serious. He cast a healing charm before he straightened up, and began to march in through the broken window.

"Wait!" Thor called hoarsely, "Do not kill him! This wound is barely a scratch, and he is my brother."

Harry paused for a moment, "Loki has invaded my planet, harmed my co-workers, tried to murder one of the few people I care about, and he stabbed me with a pointy stick. I'll do whatever the bloody hell is necessary to stop him." He continued inside. "I will deal with your brother, Asgardian. Go help your team."

Harry entered the room, advancing forward in a crouch, his wand at the ready. He could not help the soft crunch that the broken glass made under his booted feet, and so he paused, straining his ears, attempting to locate Loki through hearing alone.

This awareness was what gave him the spilt second he needed to dive out of the way of a blast from Loki's staff. He was glad that he did, as he was unsure how he would react to it. Getting stabbed by that thing was by far the most painful experience of his life to date, and he was pretty sure getting shot by it couldn't be much better.

"I knew it would be you who came to fight me," Loki said softly as he came out into the open from where he had been hiding. "But it is much too late. My army will defeat your pitiful friends, and I will become ruler of this wretched planet. All will bow before me," he pointed the staff at Harry, "Even you, Master of Death. It is not too late to change your allegiance."

"I don't think so, Dorki."

Loki snarled, "Then you will die along with those wretched 'Avengers'. None can hope to defeat me. I am a GOD!" He fired again at Harry, and Harry once again dodged, causing the blast to impact upon the wall. He was quite concerned as he observed the wall disintegrate into dust. That didn't bode well from him if he was hit by it.

Rolling to his feet, Harry fired a medley of spells. Loki raised his staff, and fired a blast into their midst, causing Harry's spells to fail, or be struck of course. Harry growled, and continued shooting at Loki with every spell in his arsenal, constantly dodging attacks from Loki.

"What's wrong, Loki? Is your magic so weak that your only hope of victory is that staff? Pathetic. And here I was hoping for a duel. I guess I should not have expected anything else from the likes of _you_."

"I am NOT pathetic! I am the rightful King of Asgard! ALL SHALL KNEEL BEFORE ME!"

Harry contained the smirk that tried to creep onto his face. He had not expected such manipulation to work. Loki was a powerful foe already, and adding the alien weaponry, Harry would have difficulty in stopping him quickly. If Loki were to lose control of his temper however, as he had done, he would become less rational.

And easier to defeat.

With a yell of fury, Loki began to fire his weapon chaotically. Harry dived and swerved, now able to advance on the Asgardian as well as avoiding his attacks. The only thing on Loki's mind was the destruction of Harry Potter. The only thing Harry was thinking about was getting Loki away from that staff.

During the pause between one of Loki's attacks and the next, Harry struck. Lashing out, he smashed a fist into Loki's face. He grimaced as he felt Loki's nose break, and blood gushed over his hand. He then kicked Loki's feet out from underneath him, causing him to fall. Loki tried to catch himself as he fell, but his broken nose caused his eyes to tear up, and he lost his balance.

As soon as he hit the ground, Harry kicked the staff out of his hand, sending it flying across the room. Loki sent a burst of magic at Harry, who leapt out of the way. During the distraction, Loki managed to flip himself to his feet, and quickly summoned decoys of himself with which to confuse Harry. The Master of Death was not so easily tricked, however. He could sense the difference between the live Loki, and the magical fakes, and so ignored them as they tried to confuse him, instead focusing on the one that was running in the direction of the fallen staff.

With a flick of his wand, the marble floor undulated and transformed into stone arms, wrapping themselves around Loki, holding him in place. Harry then hit the Asgardian with Petrificus Totalus, and his eyes widened slightly as he felt Loki immediately begin to fight it. However, he would not escape. It was now time for a few words.

Harry stalked over to his enemy. With another wave of his wand, the decoys were dispelled. Planting himself firmly in front of the glaring Loki, Harry asked, "How do we close the portal?" He removed the spell from Loki from the neck upwards so that he could speak.

"There is no way," he spat out, "The Chitauri cannot be stopped. You may have beaten me, but you cannot defeat them in their entirety."

"You're their leader, are you not? Call them off," Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously, "Before I make you."

Loki returned the glare, but faltered slightly, "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"They take their orders from a different master. I could no more call them off then you could die of old age. Looks like you failed."

Harry hissed out a few curses in Parseltongue, before returning his attention to Loki, "You have no idea how much I want to kill you." Loki's eyes widened. "… But I won't."

"Why? I am your enemy. Mercy is a trait of fools. At least let me die with honour, knowing I have been bested in battle."

Harry ignored him, leaving the emotional crap for Thor to deal with. Loki was Thor's brother, not Harry's. He pointed his wand at Loki, and shot out a beam of red light. Loki immediately lost consciousness, and Harry proceeded to manipulate the marble hands until they formed a cage around the dark haired man. Pleased with the results, he cast some unbreakable charms on the marble, and wards that would stop him should he try to escape. Loki wasn't getting away a second time.

Satisfied with his work, Harry warily approached the staff that was lying on the floor across the room. Examining it, he could not help but admit that it was rather beautiful. Then the memory of being stabbed with it crushed those thoughts. Cautiously, he bent to pick it up. Upon his skin coming into contact with it, his hand began to burn with excruciating pain. Harry yelped, and pulled his hand back, glaring at the weapon. He got the feeling it didn't like him.

Raising a hand to his ear, he said, "I've dealt with Loki. The staff is in my possession but I can't pick it up. Anyone near Stark Tower? It's time enough to close that goddamn portal."

"It's your lucky day," a voice said from behind him. Harry whirled around, and once again found himself restraining himself from attacking an ally.

"Romanoff, how did you get on the balcony?"

"Got a lift," she said flippantly, gesturing at the aliens flying around on what appeared to be jet skis. "I heard your call. Where is it?" Harry pointed at the ground behind him.

Romanoff strode over, then crouched to examine the staff. Without warning, she scooped it up, weighing it in her hands. "Hmph, that was easy."

"Well it doesn't try to maim you whenever you try to pick it up," Harry growled grumpily. Natasha raised an eyebrow, and turned to examine Loki's prison.

"Nice work. How'd you knock him out?"

"Magic," he said with a smirk. She stared at him, unimpressed, before making her way out to the balcony.

"Building's power is down, and the stairs have collapsed. We're going to need to fly up there. Well, if you're able to in the presence of the scary staff?" Harry scowled, and took hold of her upper arms, before unfurling his wings and taking off from the ground. Five seconds later, they were on the roof, and Harry let go of Romanoff immediately. He really didn't like that staff.

Without warning, a man shot out from behind the machine, firing a gun. Harry pushed Romanoff out of the way, a bullet catching his arm, before firing a stunner at the man who he now recognised to be Dr. Selvig. The red light struck him directly in the chest, and Selvig collapsed to the ground. Romanoff ran over and checked his pulse. "What did you do?"

"I just knocked him out," Harry said, as he prowled around the machine that was causing them so much trouble. He held out a hand, and was rewarded with the same pain the staff had zapped him with. Grumbling to himself, he quickly pulled back his hand. Stupid alien tech.

"Barton woke up after I knocked him out. Can you wake up Selvig? It's possible he made that thing with a kill switch."

Harry apparated across the roof so he was beside her, causing her to jump. He cast Enervate on the unconscious man, and watched as he opened possessed blue eyes, only to see them revert to normal after a few blinks.

"… What happened?"

"Dr. Selvig," Harry said, wasting no time, "How do we shut down the portal?"

"The Tesseract… it can't fight against itself…"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Well that helps."

"Potter, the staff. Doctor, did you create a way to stop the portal?"

"Yes. The staff can get through the defences and shut it down. I'm so sorry… I couldn't stop myself…"

"Romanoff, get ready."

She nodded, and held a hand up to her ear, "We found a way to close the portal. We have to use Loki's staff. Everyone ready?"

"Just close it!" came the strained voice of the Captain.

"STOP!" came another voice.

"Nick?" Harry questioned.

"A missile has been fired," Fury announced, "And it's heading right for the city. You have a little over two minutes to stop it. Potter?"

"If I try to tamper with it, it could cause it to go off!" Harry yelled, "I could try to contain the blast, but there's a high probability that that won't work."

"I'll deal with it."

"Stark," Steve said, "Don't-"

"I said I'll deal with it." There was a grunt, "Okay, I got it. I'll send it through the portal. Give the Aliens a 'Welcome to Earth' present."

"… Good luck."

"Ooohhh, Harry, dear, I didn't know you cared."

On the roof top, Natasha prepared herself to close the portal, while at the same time watching Stark as he directed the missile towards the portal.

Up and up he went until he flew out of sight, through the tear in the sky.

"Stark!" Harry yelled, "It's through, let it go!"

All they heard in return was the buzz of static.

"Stark," Steve tried, but again with the same result.

"I have to close it," Natasha growled out.

"Wait! We can't leave him in there!"

"It's Stark or the world, Potter!"

Harry glared at her, before closing his eyes in defeat. "… Do it."

And she did. Immediately the portal began to shrink. All around them, aliens dropped to the ground, dead, and Harry figured the missile had detonated. His eyes searched the sky, waiting for the flash of red that signalled Stark's return. The portal grew smaller and smaller and then-

It was gone.

Harry felt his heart clench in despair. He had failed again. Someone had died, and he was responsible. If only he had gone instead, Stark would still be alive. He should never have agreed to work with other people. He only caused death.

"Look!" Steve yelled, "He's back!"

Harry heard cheering through the ear piece, and he felt intense relief. He strained his eyes until he spotted the distinctive red form zooming towards the ground.

"Wait, why is he still falling? He should be flying by now? Is his suit malfunctioning?"

Harry didn't wait for an answer. He shot into the air, flying as fast as he could towards the falling Iron Man. As soon as he was near, he grabbed hold of Stark, and furling his wings, he sent them plummeting to the ground. The fact that the suit was failing to react from direct contact with Harry meant that it was most likely broken. Wasn't it powered by the same thing that kept Stark alive?

Harry landed near the Captain, Thor, Barton, and the Hulk, who immediately sprinted over, Harry and Steve crouching down beside the unmoving form. Steve removed the cracked visor from Tony's face, and realised the billionaire wasn't breathing.

"Shit," he swore, and was just about to take of more of the suit, when the Hulk roared at Stark.

Tony's eyes shot open and he jumped, blinking rapidly at the sight of the concerned faces looming over him. "Jesus!"

"That was a stupid thing to do, you bastard," Harry growled, masking his emotions with an indifferent mask.

"What can I say, Tony replied with a cough, "I'm a hero."

"So modest," Clint said sarcastically, sporting a grin. "Good thing Grim was around, otherwise you'd be a smear on the pavement."

Tony was still breathing rapidly, and he closed his eyes, allowing the back of his armoured head to collide with the ground with a _thunk_.

"Well, thanks for that. Remind me to give you a manly hug when I have the energy to move again. Now we can be the bestest of friends forever."

Harry straightened abruptly, "You should all head back to base. Romanoff is probably already on her way over here. I'll bring Loki back to his cell."

"Oh no you don't," Tony said, struggling until he was sitting upright, "I want to get shawarma. You're coming with us."

Harry ignored him, turning to address Steve, "You should bring him to the Medical Bay. Same for the rest of you. Get yourselves checked out before Fury decides he wants to debrief you."

Harry began to walk away, planning on apparating. He was just about to leave, Stark Tower visualised in his mind, when Tony called out, "Potter, on behalf of your team leader, Mr. Steve Rogers, I'm ordering you to attend our Shawarma celebrations."

Harry spun around. "Excuse me?" he demanded dangerously.

"You know what I'm talking about. Shawarma: lamb, chicken, turkey, beef in pita or wrap bread, chopped or shredded vegetables, pickles and assorted condiments. You deserve to come out with us to celebrate. After all that's happened, I'm pretty sure we all consider each other friends. That makes us shawarma buddies."

"I still do not understand what this 'Shawarma' is," Thor interrupted with a frown.

"I don't need friends," Harry growled, his face contorting into a scowl.

"What's Coulson then?"

"Shut up, Stark."

"Come on, when was the last time you had some fun?"

"I don't have time for this," his scowl was now a glare, "This isn't my only mission. I told all of you before we left. I have stuff to do."

"Grim," Clint said in disbelief, "You just helped prevent an alien invasion. You can relax for a few hours."

"As much as I hate to order you around, Fury did say you were a part of the team. You're coming with us," Steve smiled.

"No I'm not."

"Potter, this isn't an option. You're being abducted, and you will be force fed shawarma if it comes to it," Tony proclaimed.

"You can't stop me from leaving," Harry hissed.

That was when a pair of large, green hands wrapped around him, preventing any movement. Harry struggled for a moment, attempting to manoeuvre his grip on his wand so as to curse Stark, when a puff of air, caused by the Hulk beginning to growl, mussed up his already perpetually messy hair.

"Good Hulk!" Tony called.

Harry stood there for a moment, unable to move an inch because of the tight grip the Hulk had on him, and outnumbered by muggles, a giant green monster and an alien. To top it all off, he was tired, he had been shot in the arm, and he was covered in grime from the battle.

"What did I miss?" came a feminine voice. Harry strained his neck in the tight grip, and watched Romanoff make her way down the street. She paused for a moment when she saw what her team members were doing. A furious Harry was in the grip of possibly the most dangerous creature on the planet that was capable of killing giant alien creatures with one 'smash', and then rest of the team was standing in a semicircle before him, all smiling victoriously, and perhaps a bit evilly.

"We're kidnapping Harry. He said he didn't want to celebrate with us, so Hulky threatened to crush him. You in?" Tony asked.

Natasha smiled slightly at the sight of most dangerous agent in all of SHIELD scowling mulishly, his bottom lip jutting out. She shrugged, "Sure. I'm hungry anyway. Where are we going?"

"To get shawarma!"

Natasha wrinkled her nose at this, but said nothing.

"Let me go," Harry hissed, "I have to bring Loki back. I DON'T WANT SHAWARMA."

"Of course you do, my British friend, you just don't know it yet. Hulk, would you mind not transforming back until we have Potter successfully tied to a chair?"

The Hulk growled agreeably. Tony began walking down the street rather slowly, and he gestured for the others to follow. Harry gave a grunt of surprise as he was hoisted into the air by the Hulk.

"Let me go," Harry ordered, "Or I will kill all of you."

"No you won't."

"I refuse to work with any of you imbeciles ever again." Natasha shot him a warning look, but he ignored her.

"I am under the impression you will not have a choice," Thor chuckled in amusement.

Harry fumed silently as they continued down the road. His last chance at salvation came with the sound of his ear piece being activated.

"Potter, is everything under control? Where is the rest of the team? We found Loki and Selvig in Stark Tower," Fury said in his ear.

"Nick, your psycho team kidnapped me," Harry snarled, "Order them to stand down. They won't let me leave."

"Hmm, that's too bad," Fury mused, "Well, the immediate threat has been dealt with, so the team can do whatever they want for the next couple of hours before debriefing."

"Fury, I need to find the source behind the _problem_," Harry told him, referring to the murderer behind the town massacres, "I don't have time to deal with your insane, shawarma obsessed employees." That was the last thing he said before Natasha plucked the communicator from his ear. "Give that back. Now."

Romanoff just smirked, and kept walking.

"I hate my job. I hate my job."

**Okay, not my best chapter mostly because I had to follow some of the actual movie plot and I prefer to just make stuff up as I go along. Hopefully a new update will be up in the next three days or so. Thanks for all the great reviews, it really makes me think about including more amphibian transformations XD Review if you want, and Happy New Year Eve Eve! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I'm finally back. It wasn't so much writers block, but extreme laziness. I was like "I must update! People are actually reading this!" and then I decided to sleep instead...  
Also, I HATE WRITING ON THIS STUPID KEYBOARD!  
**

Harry, although he was loath to admit it, wasn't as infuriated at he was letting on. Well, not by much. Once he ignored the fact that these pompous fools had sort of kidnapped him, and that he was currently in the grasp of perhaps the most dangerous non-magical creature in the world, being led towards his doom that seemed to have materialised in the form of shawarma. He wasn't happy about being forced into attending this gathering- thing – whatever it was. A victory lunch? He sighed to himself, and tried to ignore the slightly nauseating swaying he was forced to endure whilst caught by Banner's alter ego.

"Let me down. Now."

All he received for his half hearted demand were smiles and winks. He sighed again, this time blowing dark, dirty bangs out of his eyes. The temptation to escape was present, but Harry was averse to the idea of harming the Avengers to achieve it. That didn't mean he wasn't pissed. He was irritated beyond belief, but there was an odd amusement that bubbled up within him because of the playful way the others were acting around him. It reminded him of the times spent with his friends in Hogwarts. The camaraderie that could only be achieved after you went through a life or death situation with someone. The beginnings of it were there, and when his mind strayed to his so called 'team mates', he couldn't stop the happiness he felt when he considered having that sort of friendship again. But then of course his common sense had to make its way to the fore. '_You had your chance, and you let them die_.'

Then the guilt that was always present swelled within him. People close to him always died. The amount of family he still had verified that claim. Voldemort may be gone, but the life Harry had chosen to create for himself just increased the amount of enemies he had. When he had agreed to work with SHIELD, he had taken it into account that he didn't have anyone to put at risk by becoming an agent. It was a strength as well as a weakness; something Fury had informed him of in the beginnings of their working relationship.

_There is no one to hold you back, but who are you fighting for?_

He had fought for his friends, but they were gone. In the end, the war with Voldemort had cost him everything, and he wasn't sure he deserved another chance...

"Here we are, the Shawarma Restaurant! See Steve? I told you I knew where we were going."

"Stark, we passed this street twice before you decided it was the right one. If this 'shawarma' stuff isn't worth it, I will make it my goal in life to ruin yours. I'm tired, hungry, and this suit stopped being comfortable about four hours ago."

"No need to be so grumpy, Capsicle," Tony exclaimed, attempting to look scandalised, but only succeeding in looking more untrustworthy than before, "I understand that shawarma is something to do with meat, and if I want to try it, it must be worthy."

Clint sighed, "It's most definitely not worth it."

Tony ignored them, and stepped into the half demolished restaurant. Seeing that there were no staff members present, he seemed to deflate with disappointment. "I was so sure the owner of a shawarma restaurant wouldn't leave in the event of an alien apocalypse. It just didn't seem like the type of thing that would scare them. Robots, maybe, but not aliens. Never aliens..."

He continued to peruse the menus on the walls, when a head cautiously peeked out over a dust covered counter.

"... You want... shawarma?"

Tony smiled victoriously at the others, most of which just rolled their eyes at Tony's luck. From Harry he received only a raised eyebrow and a bored expression. "Yes dear sir, if you could perhaps prepare six of your finest shawarma... shawarmas? Anyway, we would appreciate them greatly. You are, of course, talking to the saviours of the planet."

The chef's eyebrows, already raised extremely high, disappeared into his hair. "The aliens are gone?"

"Indeed," Tony proclaimed grandly, before clapping his hands, "Now chop chop, you have heroes to feed!"

The unnamed chef immediately scurried out of sight, no doubt to create the best batch of shawarma ever made in all of history. Behind Tony, Steve surveyed the room, and seeing only one table in the middle of the rubble strewn room still standing, decided to drop into one of its' chairs, exhaling loudly at the relief brought with finally being able to relax. Clint and Natasha quickly followed his lead. Tony and Thor looked set to follow when they were interrupted by a deep growl, and a cough. Everyone looked around to see the Hulk outside the shattered shop front, an angry expression on his face, and an irate Harry still clasped between his huge, green fists.

Harry glared at them balefully, "Seeing as how I was FORCED into coming here, I would appreciate someone ordering Banner to LET ME DOWN." Tony and Thor exchanged thoughtful looks before both their eyes darted towards the thick beam of metal that had fallen from the ceiling at some point during the battle, and was now lying rather forlornly on the floor of the establishment. Wicked grins lit up their faces, and Thor hurried over to it, and lifted it up.

"I find it strong enough, Man of Iron," he announced after bending it a bit with his Asgardian strength.

"Perfect," Tony smirked, before turning back to Harry and the Hulk. "Hulky, would you mind setting Agent Potter on that chair at the end of the table?"

The Hulk snarled at him, but lumbered into the room through the empty window pane, ducking slightly to stop his head from making more holes in the ceiling. Surprisingly, once he reached the chair, he set Harry down rather gently. As soon his the large hands loosened, Harry lunged forward, but before he could escape, the hands tightened once again. He glared fiercely at the tables occupants, who dared to laugh at his misfortune and did nothing to help him.

"When I get out of here," he growled dangerously, "I will make your lives living hell."

"No you won't!" Tony yelled from somewhere over his shoulder, "Your file said you had a Hero-Complex!"

Harry closed his eyes, and forced his face to become blank. "You know nothing about me. That file only told you basic information. Banner, let me go, or I'll – WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!"

The huge beam of metal that Thor had lifted from the ground was placed in front of Harry. Realising the intentions behind Thor and Stark, Harry began to hiss and snarl at them. Seeing that his anger failed to halt their actions, said anger caused his words to morph into hissing Parseltongue. Tony just raised his eyebrows as he observed Harry hiss nonsensical sounds at him. He shrugged to himself, and began to use the strength gifted to him because of his armour to bend the length of metal. With a high pitched screech, it folded. With Thor's help, after about a minute of pure brute force, Harry was bound to the chair by a thick, metal restraint.

Thor and Tony looked back to observe their handiwork. "Think it'll hold?"

Thor nodded his head seriously, "I don't see how he could escape. I sense no power from him at this moment, which means he has not cast any spells. His wand is in his holster, and thanks to our noble work, his hands have been restrained." Tony smiled brightly, and moved over to his own seat along with Thor, both of whom were still ignoring the enraged wizard.

Clint scoffed at the interactions between the two, "You do realise that if he had fought back, both of you would be smears on the pavement, right? You should be thankful that Grim doesn't hurt co-workers."

"I'm reconsidering that rule," Harry spat out, his flashing emerald eyes fixed on Tony, before he slowly calmed down, slumping slightly in his chair. "I need to get back to work. Once this insane torture ends, I have to go. I still have to interrogate Loki about the source of his army, and solve another case I'm working on."

"Look," Steve sighed, "Just enjoy these few hours of victory, and then you can go. It's not every day you stop a war, is it?"

Harry didn't answer. Little did they know that this wasn't the first war he had fought in, and won. It also wasn't the worst. After all, last time there hadn't been a few hours of victory for Harry. There had been only death.

"I believe there is a clothing store beside this fine establishment," Tony interjected abruptly, "Hulky, if you wanna change back, I'll pay for the clothes."

The green monster huffed out an annoyed breath, before turning away and heading back out of the missing wall. "Puny heroes."

Harry allowed his head to fall back against the back of the chair with a _thunk._ He stared moodily up at the ceiling, and contemplated his life. What had he done to fate to make it hate him so much? All he asked was to live in peace, perhaps with an exciting mission every few months, and a few dark wizards to destroy. Here he was, exciting mission over, another awaiting him... and he was bound to a chair. A memory of being bound came forward in his mind, and Harry grimaced. "If any of you decide to use my blood in some kind of warped ritual, I will turn all of you into snakes, and you will run my errands, specifically those that will lead you to a horrendous death in a pit of lava, and you will suffer. A lot."

There was a pause in the conversation, before it continued as his morbid proclamation was noted, and then ignored.

It was Natasha who said, "I think I can actually feel the angst emanating off of you. How old are you again?"

"Thirty," he growled, then a pause, "Thirty-ish."

Natasha studied at him for a few moments, "You look to be about twenty at first glance, but something about you makes you seem even older than thirty. I suppose in this business, it's impossible to retain the innocence that comes with youth." Her eyes darkened slightly towards the end, perhaps reliving memories just like Harry was. At her words, Harry raised his head to look back at her.

"You would know of that?" he said, narrowing his eyes slightly as he examined her with his Master of Death sight, rather than his mundane. Said eyes widened slightly with surprise, "Hmm, you really _would_ know about that. I'm not the only one older than I look. Non-magical science really is really quite amazing. I didn't believe this sort of thing was possible. How old are _you_?"

Natasha kept her face blank, not allowing any of her surprise or shock to show. "How did you know?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, before giving her a small smile. "Magic."

She smirked in amusement, shaking her head, "That's going to be your answer for everything. So does magic slow the aging process for all wizards?"

Harry felt himself freeze, before saying smoothly, "Yeah, it's a wizard thing. Nothing special."

They were interrupted by the arrival of a platter of what Harry could only assume was shawarma, and the return of Banner, now dressed in a dark shirt and trousers.

"Well this looks... appetising," Tony said as he picked up some of the curious food, and held it up to his face. "Mmmmm... meaty. Cheers."

Everyone mumbled unenthusiastically, and took a bite out of their respective meal. Well except for Harry. He still couldn't move his arms. Instead he observed the expressions of the others. Tony, for all his talk on the subject, was obviously disgusted by shawarma. He placed the shawarma back on his plate and forced his face into a pleased smile. "Delicious."

Steve on the other hand, continued to eat the food with a small frown on his face. Perhaps if he continued to eat it, he would grow to like it. Anything was possible. He used to be an ice cube. He would not be thwarted by meat.

Thor, Clint and Banner were all consuming their shawarma with fervour. They had eaten much worse in their lives, and Thor would go as far as to say he loved the meat combination.

Natasha on the other hand, did nothing to hide her dislike for the shawarma. After her first bite, she wrinkled her nose slightly before tossing the shawarma back on to her plate. "That is disgusting."

Harry eyed the shawarma doubtfully. "It can't be that bad. It's just meat." She raised an eyebrow, and held the shawarma in front of his face, inviting him to take a bite. He did so warily, and immediately regretted it. He struggled to swallow the mouthful, and then sputtered and coughed.

"Dear Merlin! Thats it, I've decided to live on lettuce for the rest of my life. That was horrible. I would actually rather kiss a Dementor than eat that crap ever again."

Even not knowing what a Dementor was, Natasha couldn't help but laugh. "Living on only rabbit food? Stark wouldn't survive that."

Harry laughed along with her before a beautiful plan began to form in his mind. "A rabbit you say? My fellow agent, would you mind terribly removing my wand from its holster on my right arm, and placing it in my hand so it points directing at dear Tony?" he asked quietly. He could not help the malicious grin that crept onto his face. It had been too long since he had last committed a prank.

"You won't try to escape? As idiotic as Stark can be, I agree with him that you need to relax. This job is important, but if you let it take over your life, it will get you killed."

"Not me," Harry murmured to himself, before addressing her again, "How about a swear?" She thought about it for a moment, before nodding. "Then I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Both of them now smirking, Natasha reached over and after a few seconds, Harry's wand was once again in his hand. As soon as it was pointed at Tony, Harry called out, "Hey Stark?"

Tony looked up, and stared at Harry suspiciously. "Wait, what happened to your moping? I felt safe when you were moping. Now I feel like fleeing... We're all friends here, right?" He smiled nervously.

"Let this be a lesson on what happens when you decide to pick what restaurant we go to."

A jet of pink light flew towards Tony from the unnoticed wand held loosely and unnoticeably at Harry's side.

Tony had just enough time for one "Oh shit-" before he was struck by the colourful light. Immediately upon contact, with a puff of pink smoke, Tony Stark was no more, and in his place sat a fluffy, white rabbit. Bunny Stark hopped onto the table, and looked down to stare at tiny, snow white paws. All eyes observed the bunny with fascination, and Thor slowly lowered himself in his seat, wisely refraining from speaking. The memories of his time as an amphibian were still strong.

The bunny tried to move towards Harry, and with very unbunny-like gestures, attempted to convey his apology, and want for forgiveness. Harry simply examined the rabbit, and tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed in deep contemplation.

"Something is missing..." he muttered, and then he brightened as he discovered what. "Of course!"

Another gesture, and a summoned hat landed on top of Tony with a _plop_. Indignant rabbit noises could be heard within the hat, and it was this that allowed the floodgates to burst, and for everyone in the room to roar with laughter.

"Anyone – wanna pull the rabbit – outta the hat?" Clint howled.

Upon hearing the laughter, bunny Stark managed to harness his fury, and managed to tip the hat over, sending him sprawling. He stumbled to stubby feet, and hopped towards Harry, murder in his little rabbit eyes. Harry, head still tilted to the side, chose that moment to transform. The folded metal beam fell onto the seat, for Harry's mass was no longer holding it up. In his place, a large, pitch black raven with glowing green eyes stood, and continued to stare at the white Stark rabbit, head still tilted to the side. Now Tony understood what the movement was.

Birdlike.

His tiny rabbit heart nearly exploded with fear when bunny instincts overloaded his brain at the sight of the rabbit predator in front of him. A few terrified noises of bunny terror later, and Stark was back in his hat, ears peeking over the top. Harry gave a harsh croak, and transformed back, appearing on the table in his human form once again, and cross-legged.

An abrupt gesture, and Tony was also human once again. Unfortunately, the hat failed to survive the transformation which left Tony on his back, staring at Harry. "... You're not a nice person."

"Wait a second," Steve said, "If you could turn into a crow, why did you let us grab you? Why not just fly away?"

"Raven," Harry corrected, "And I wanted to keep _something_ secret. I guess once you've transfigured enough of your co-workers, it just seems odd not to transform yourself, if you know what I mean. Besides, now you all realise that if I wanted to, I could have killed you all. Obviously you have no power over me. It was all a lie."

Steve stared at him oddly. Bruce leaned over and whispered, "I think he's being friendly. In an 'I let you kidnap me, I trust you', kind of way."

"See?" Tony exclaimed, shaking away the mentally scarring events that had just occurred, "You _do_ like us! We're your friends because you let us kidnap you."

"Obviously he was just unsure as to what would happen if he transformed while being held by Banner. Hulk might have crushed him once he shrank," Natasha commented.

"We are not friends," Harry said clearly, "Working on one mission together doesn't mean anything. I'll admit that working with this team wasn't all bad, but I work better alone."

Surprisingly, it was Thor who said what they were all thinking, "You lie to yourself, friend. We saw you fight with us, and you are clearly a leader. I realise that I know not what you have undergone in your life, but you must learn not to live in the past. There will come a time in the future where you will need us. I hope you will remember us in that time of need."

Harry said nothing, and held his hand out to Natasha. Wordlessly, she placed his earpiece in his hand. He placed it back where in belonged, and stood upright on the table, walking to the edge and then jumping gracefully to the ground.

He looked at them all before nodding in acknowledgment. It wasn't an agreement, but it was progress. Just as he was about to disapparate, Clint called out, "Beers next Tuesday, me and Coulson. The usual place." Harry rolled his eyes, and then he was gone. It was time to get back to work.

**Okay, nothing great happened, but I needed to add a filler chapter. Mostly coz if I didn't the story would be too short. Response is appreciated, except if it's mean because that would make me sad and make me lazier. Thank you to dear Ken for motivating me to write today rather than sleep. Or maybe I should curse you. I'm really tired now :L Next update is next weekend! I HOPE! MOST PROBABLY! I THINK! Yeah...**

**The thing with Natasha was about how Black Widow is resistant to aging. If anyone hadn't guessed, she's kinda the love interest. I hadn't planned much romance, so it'll kinda be a little flirting, but no mushy stuff. **

**Thanks for reading :)**


	8. Chapter 8

"So you had fun at your little team party?" a voice from behind Harry questioned humorously. He rolled his eyes, and turned around to face his tormentor. Nick raised an eyebrow, a smirk clearly evident on his face.

"I wouldn't have called it a party," he said grumpily, "That would imply that I had fun at it. It was more of a... unpleasant social gathering." He continued walking down the empty hallway, Fury walking quickly until they were walking together.

"Don't gimme that shit, Potter, this is the first time I've ever seen you in how many years not brooding darkly in a corner, oozing angst all over the room."

Harry looked offended. "Wha- EXCUSE ME, _when_ have I ever brooded in a corner?"

Fury waved the question away, and examined Harry critically. "I'm serious, Potter. The way you've been the last few years, the way you've ALWAYS been since I've know you... it's not healthy. You're the best agent SHIELD has, but you're emotionally inept. I understand that what you went through was horrific, but avoiding all human contact has not helped you in the slightest."

"It's helped everyone else," Harry bit out, eyes flashing angrily. "People around me get killed, Nick, no matter who they are. It's better for everyone if I-"

"Potter, quit your whining," Fury snapped, "Shit happens. I have said this before, and if I have to say it again, I swear to God I will eviscerate you. You. Did. Not. Kill. Those. People. You were at war. People die in wars. That doesn't mean you are the one responsible for their deaths. You did not cast the spells, so you are not their murderer."

Harry glared at the Director, fuming. "You promised me when I first started working for you guys that you would _never _bring up my past after I told you."

"That was before the Avengers, Harry. You are a part of that team as much as you were a part of the resistance during the Wizarding War. You have fought with them, you have bled for them, and bonds like that aren't broken just because you are too afraid to get close to someone!"

Harry started to walk faster, moving to escape whilst glaring straight ahead with a fierce expression on his face. Fury sighed, and moved in front of him, halting his progress. "Harry, stop and listen to me. They are your team, whether you like it or not. You have been assigned to work with them, and from what I saw today, you work damn well together. Your argument against the collaboration is that you will get them killed? Harry, that team consists of the most powerful individuals in the world. They are humanities last hope in times of hardship. If anyone can keep themselves alive in your company, it will be them. I didn't place you with them as their babysitter. I did it because they were the only team that could keep up with you. You need them, Harry. As much as you'd like to argue against it, you need people in your life. Why else would you put up with Coulson and Barton dragging you out for beers every time you show up? The loss of your friends hurt you, but that doesn't mean you should suffer because of it for the rest of your life. And from what I gathered, it's gonna be a _very_ long life."

"You want me to just replace the people I lost?"

"No," Fury replied harshly, "I want you to move on, and LIVE for once, not just survive."

It was a deep-in-thought Harry that entered the cell housing Shield's newest criminal acquisition. Loki, muzzled and bound, was seated on a hard, metal chair in the very centre of the room. Thick steel chains bound his body to the chair, and Harry snickered mentally at the thought of how uncomfortable the villain must be if his facial expressions were anything to go by.

His pale face bruised and littered with small cuts, supported an uncomfortable, mutinous, yet strangely hollow expression. Deadened eyes glared half heartedly at Harry from beneath long, sweat-soaked locks, and Harry couldn't help the twinge of pity he felt for the Asgardian. Then he remembered getting stabbed in the chest.

Checking the room for cameras, and after seeing the red lights indicating their use flicker out, he let the thick door shut behind him with a deafening boom, shot a quick Stinging Hex at the bound Loki, and proceeded to summon a soft and squishy armchair onto which he dropped unceremoniously. He watched as Loki twitched uncomfortably in his chains, the half hearted glare transforming into the one he had come to know.

"Hey," Harry said with a smirk, "Hope you find your accommodations to your liking. Speak up if you need anything." He sat in the armchair, legs hanging over the edge, and examined a knife he had pulled out of his pocket lazily. "Hmm, alright then."

Loki glare increased if that was possible. Obviously he extremely disliked the muzzle adorning his face, and the fact that Harry was making fun of it wasn't helping.

"So, Fury sent me down to 'chat' with you, see if you'd tell us your reasoning behind the invasion, why you're an asshole, the meaning of life, etcetera. Look, they even turned off the cameras in case you're uncooperative."

Loki's eyes widened slightly, and he closed his eyes in a resigned manner. Harry, who was examining his reactions closely, was slightly confused by this. He'd expected more angry glares and meaningful stares than this. Loki just looked... defeated. The pity welled up once again, and Harry rubbed the tender stab wound absently, trying to remind himself that even if Loki was sorry now, he had led an invasion against Earth. Well, a crappy invasion that had failed to accomplish anything, but an invasion still.

The minutes ticked by, Harry examining Loki, and the Asgardian staring back unenthusiastically. He appeared to have accepted his fate, and was expecting torture. Fury had implied that Harry was free to employ physical harm if Loki failed to cooperate, but Harry was no sadist. He had no problem beating the shit out of Loki during battle, but tied to a chair as he was, it just seemed cowardly.

"I'm going to remove the muzzle so you can communicate through something other than eyebrow twitches. I'd advise you not to try anything. Firstly, it would likely fail spectacularly, and secondly, and in my opinion, more importantly, I'm exhausted, cranky, and I have enough injuries to validate a week long nap, which I won't get because I have another mass murderer to incarcerate. Understood?"

Loki rolled his eyes, but nodded tiredly. A flick of Harry's wand, and the muzzle was gone. Loki stretched his jaw, wincing at the load cracks the movement caused.

"... Why did you allow me to live?"

Harry raised a dark eyebrow, "You'd rather I killed you? It's not too late, you know."

Loki laughed humorously, "I know not what I want. I have been defeated. All that I have lived for since my fall from Asgard has been for nought. I have no reason to continue on in this life, all I see before me is pain and hardship."

"Well then, I believe a valuable lesson has been learned. Don't take other peoples' stuff. They get angry, beat you up, and then tie you up," Harry stated calmly. Loki could not help the chuckle that escaped him after Harry's words, and forced himself to school is expression into one of indifference. "And the answer to your question on why I didn't kill you, I saw no need. I have seen plenty of death in my life, hell, I'd feel every death that occurred in this city if I didn't block it out. From the glimpse I took of your mind to discover your plans, I saw a lot of the shit you did. Unfortunately, I also saw some of the shit that was done _to_ you. You're still an almighty douchebag, but I don't kill people when they're already down. I defeated you, and saw no point in ending your life. You need to suffer the consequences for you actions, and death was too easy an escape..." The last sentence was spoken softly as Harry mused on the blissful dream that was reuniting with all those he had lost, perhaps even being granted forgiveness.

"You see death as an escape?" Loki questioned.

"Everyone would if they were incapable of achieving it."

"But immortality is what makes gods greater then mortals! To live forever, it is something they throw away their lives for!"

"Loki, you are not immortal. I could kill you right now, and you would die, same as any human. Neither are you a god. Your hubris almost destroyed a planet, risking the lives of millions of people. If there was a God, which I highly doubt on account of my life so far, you most certainly would not be it."

Loki stared at him once again, and muttered something under his breath. Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

"Gods don't bleed. You told me that when I was imprisoned on that ridiculous ship. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?" Harry asked when his words puttered out.

"Perhaps... I should have listened. If anyone could identify a god, it would be the Master of Death, would it not?" he questioned bitterly.

Harry shrugged noncommittally, and decided to steer the conversation back to an interrogation. "So, reasoning behind the invasion?"

Loki looked disoriented at the sudden subject change, but decided to answer honestly, seeing no reason to anger Harry. "Thor loves this planet. The Chitauri wished to invade. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to cause my _brother_ grief, and who was I to waste opportunity?"

"And you wanted to rule the world," Harry finished off, nodding condescendingly.

Loki's glare returned before promptly disappearing once again. "Yes, I wished to fulfil my birthright as a King, even if it was the King of as pitiful a species as humans."

"Racist."

Loki laughed again before looking at Harry in confusion. "I had not expected such an encounter to play out like this, Death. I expected much more pain and suffering on my part. I am...confused."

The red light on the camera in the corner of the room flashed, indicating it was turning back on. Harry stood, and with a wave of his wand, the armchair disappeared, and the muzzle was back on the prisoner's face.

"And that is my cue to bring an end to our little talk. You probably won't be seeing me anytime soon, I'm needed elsewhere. Stark will start his work on the device that will send you and Thor home tomorrow, and hopefully you'll be back in Asgard before the week is over. Your cooperation is duly noted." Harry headed towards the exit, and as he reached the door, he glanced back at Loki. For someone who could be such an irritating prick, he was not at all intimidating now, hunched over in his uncomfortable chair, chains weighing him down. Harry sighed, and discreetly raised his wand, out of sight of the cameras. A few muttered words later, and Loki's head whipped up in shock and confusion. Harry tilted his head to the side, and Loki sent a wary nod of thanks in return, evidently still perplexed by Harry's actions.

With that, Harry left the room, searching for a cupboard through which to apparate to his office. That Dark Wizard really needed to be brought to justice, and Harry had wasted enough time already. After entering a small Maintenance room seldom used in the facility, and preparing himself for apparition, Harry's thoughts wandered back to Loki. He had gained respect from the Asgardian after he had defeated him in battle, but Harry couldn't helped but think that the simple Cushioning and Comfort charms he had placed on Loki's metal chair as he left had gained him even more.

Harry raced through the narrow alley way, leaping around overturned trash cans in pursuit of his prey. Wizarding prey to be exact. It had taken a week, but Harry had finally made the breakthrough he was searching so desperately for. After sifting through the American Magical communities, Harry had _finally_ managed to single out the individuals that would most likely be involved in the Dark Arts. There had been too many to go through, America was extremely large after all, so he had narrowed it down to any individuals with a penchant for magic such as necromancy. It had been a leapt of faith, something Harry had been reluctant to rely on as his favoured method of solving cases was through cold hard facts, but he had won on this gamble. After questioning countless suspects, success.

Fergus Fletcher, perhaps a relative of Mundungus, had stood out. Early thirties, greasy brown hair, and desperate for money, he was the epitome of bad life choices. Add to the fact that he was an accomplished Necromancer, and you had someone desperate enough to perform a crime, and in possession of the skill set being utilised by Harry's target. Also, when Harry had asked for a word, he had, after seeing the scar on Harry's forehead indicating that he knew what Harry was after, and he had something to hide, he had run. Or maybe Harry was so badass that criminals would do anything to get away from him. Harry would prefer it to be the first, as that would mean progress, but if it was the second, well, fuck yeah.

Bored of the chase that had ensued after Harry had cast anti-apparition spells on Fergus, Harry threw a knife. It shot through the air, and speared his prey's coat, pinning it to a wall. Fergus was pulled back abruptly, a choking noise escaping his throat along with desperate pants, and he began to tug at the clothing, conveniently forgetting that he could take off the coat, and that he was a wizard. For Merlin's sake, were the Fletcher genes really that poor?

"Come on, Fergus, I only want a word. Just a quick conversation, nothing big."

Fergus' eyes grew wild, and he finally seemed to remember his wand. "Mortuos Suscitate!"

Harry titled his head to the side, and watched transfixed as what appeared to be the remains of a dead cat lurched out of a dumpster that was shoved against the wall of the alley. Flesh hung off the emaciated frame, and empty, glowing red eyes fixed their sights on Harry.

"A zombie kitty," Harry stated, his nose wrinkling with uncontrollable disgust, "Really. From what I dug up, you're talent for magic could at best be compared to a mildly talented squib, yet you have a revolting affinity for necromancy, and you have no qualms about enslaving Inferi to carry out your bidding. Curious." With a flick of his wand, the cat was enveloped in flames, and Harry sensed in his mind the destruction of the animation magic that kept the creature upright. Through the fire, he watched the red leave the cat's eyes, and he felt sickened. He had seen a lot over the years, but these zombies were by far the worst. They brought back memories of a cave by the sea, and with it, the horrific sensation of drowning...

"Well, thank you for that little show. It shows that my information-gathering skills are still going strong. Introductions. You're Fergus Fletcher, and as you've probably guessed, I'm Harry Potter, hunter of Dark Wizards, and at the moment, hunter of the disgusting bastard who has been murdering towns full of people for whatever warped reasoning they've come up with in their evil little mind. You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you Fletchie?" Harry glared at the man, daring him to lie. Fergus squeaked, and Harry rolled his eyes as the man soiled himself from the fear. "Oh, and keep in mind, even if you don't tell me, I have my ways of ripping the information from your mind. It won't be fun... for you."

"I'll tell ya! Oh dear God, don'tcha go ruffling through mah head! Ah Jesus, the fuckin' Chosen One? They said you was dead! Ya went missin' and nobody knew where you was! Please don't kill me, man, I din't know what I was doin'! I only sold 'im some ingredients for the potion. Ah shit, he said if you came, I had ta say nuthin', but you supposed to be dead! He's gonna kill me, oh _God_-"

"Shut up," Harry cut in, "And calm down. So you sold someone potion ingredients, and they said I'd come for you? Who was he? What did he look like? What were the ingredients you sold him?"

"I dunno what he looked like," Fergus whispered, gulping fearfully as his eyes went distant, "He wus wearin' a big white cloak, hood on 'is face an' all. Tall dude, sounded kinda young, but then real old at the same time, ya know? Kinda like you. Come to think o' it, he said you was like him. Tha's why you was lookin' for him. He bought a whole load a shady stuff, kinda stuff you need for some real big shit. Like, for thousands o' bodies. He musta been trying ta raise a graveyard, crazy bastard..."

"Actually, he was raising towns. LIVE towns," Harry snarled, "And YOU, YOU sold him the ingredients to achieve that. When exactly did you sell them to him?"

"It was months ago, okay! He gone and bought my whole store of powdered root of asphodel. But I couldn't tell 'im no..."

_This makes no sense! _Harry pondered, _Potion ingredients? I was expecting him to be an assistant to some sort of ritual/spell. But now there's a potion involved?_

Was there anything distinguishing you could see about him, even with the hood? And did he give you a name, anything that can be used to track him down?"

Fergus swallowed nervously, "He said you'd ask that. He said, 'When Master Potter comes calling, you tell him Dominus Vitae', and-" Fergus' voice cut off with a choke. He staggered forward, gripping his throat, eyes bulging. Harry leapt forward, desperate to hear whatever Fergus had to say, when suddenly, arms shot up and plucked him from the air, slamming him painfully into a nearby wall. The air was knocked out of his chest, leaving him gasping, and he was unable to inhale anymore, due to the hands latched around his throat. His eyesight blurred on account of his sudden contact with the wall, and he blinked rapidly in order to clear them. Once they focused again, he tried to recoil, repulsed as he was by the sight before him. Fergus, or what had been Fergus only a minute before, had him pinned to the wall with arms much stronger than was possible for the stick thin man before him. He had Harry pinned off of the ground, and Harry reached his hand out in order to summon it back to his hand after it had flown free after impact. Before he could form the magic, his head was bashed into the wall once again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Besides, I only want a word. Isn't that what you told Fergus earlier? Now look what you've done. Poor thing's dead now. Such a pity..."

It was then that Harry caught sight of the blood red eyes that had replaced the muddy brown that had been Fergus' eyes before. Harry came to the conclusion that this was some sort of possession.

"It's you-you're-the killer-"

"Very good, dear, I knew you had it in you. I must say, though, I'm rather disappointed with how long it took you to track little Fergus' down. He was, after all, the most well known necromancer in America. Weak, though. They just don't make them like they used to."

Whoever this bastard was, he had somehow managed to turn Fergus into one of those zombie creatures, and use the body as the equivalent of a telephone. The fingers bruising his neck loosened slightly, and Harry was able to take in enough air to make full sentences. Lack of air couldn't kill him, but it was irritating, and it messed with his brain.

"Why did it take me so long? I was fighting off a bloody invasion, you piece of shit! Why the hell are you doing this?"

"Now, now, I only wished to talk with you. You have no idea how shocked I was when I discovered your existence. The Master of Death wandering around, yet unaware of little old me. I simply _had _to remedy that. It was time for me to grab a snack anyways. I was so _pleased _when you were assigned my 'case'. And then imagine my shock when it turned out _Harry Potter _was you!"

In a flash, Harry pulled out a knife, stabbing it into 'Fergus'' chest, and watched with a sinking feeling as blood only barely leaked out and 'Fergus' failed to react in the slightest. Yep, he was dead, alright.

The dead body tutted disapprovingly, lifted Harry away from the wall, and slammed him down on his back onto the cold, concrete ground instead. "Oh dear, that wasn't nice. I only wish to speak with you. Well, to warn you, actually."

"Well consider me warned," Harry hissed out, "But keep in mind that I WILL disregard everything you say if it means I don't get to stop you. You will die by my hand for what you have done!"

'Fergus' laughed, and Harry was struck by how different the mind occupying the body was from its previous owner. Fergus had a crude manner of speaking, indicating a lack of concern when it came to speaking correctly. The bastard in the body now, he spoke like a knob, to put it simply. Obviously wealthy, snooty, pompous, Harry could go on.

"Oh Harry, so strong. _This _ is why I like you. Brave and noble, so focused on taking revenge on the killer of what your mind sees to be innocents. But you must understand. They were a fuel to support a much greater being. Their lives _had _to be sacrificed so I could live. And I even took care of their bodies once they were gone. Well, most of them. I had to leave some behind a few times. You are rather quick on the apparition, Harry."

Okay, this guy was insane. "I'm going to kill you. I swear on my magic, I will stop you. You will pay for what you have done." Cold, dead hands stroked Harry's raven hair, and he had to suppress a shudder as the blunt fingers trailed over his face, resting for a moment on his lips.

"No I won't. It was nice speaking with you, dear. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon. I have so many plans, and I will be needing your help with a few. Fare well." With that, the corpse fell onto Harry, and he violently shoved it away, summoning his wand to his hand and setting the body alight before it could animate again. He ran hand through his hair, wincing as it came away covered in blood. _This_ was why he disliked walls.

He raised an unsteady hand to his ear, activating his communicator. "Potter. Report."

"Nick... I honestly have no clue what the fuck just happened. Can you send someone to pick me up? My brains just got mashed into a wall, and we got zombie ashes. And blood. And a whole bunch of batshit crazy." Harry listened distractedly as Fury issued orders whilst keeping the connection with Harry open. If Harry was shaken, they were screwed.

Several sudden cracks interrupted Harry's thoughts, and he immediately whirled around, keeping his back to the wall and aiming his wand at the newcomers.

"Sir, by order of the American Ministry of Magic, I demand you hand over your wand for examination. Necromancy has been detected in this area, and as the only wizard present, you are subject to arrest."

"This is a misunderstanding, Auror. I work with the mundane Government. I was chasing down a suspect _because _of his history with necromancy. You're currently standing on his body. Fergus Fletcher. And the cat he animated is that pile of ash by the dumpster. His wand is lying just to your left, and you can cast the spells to find your culprit with that."

"Ha-_Harry_?!"

Harry's eyes widened in shock at the sound of the familiar voice. His head shot in the direction of the sound. Tall, late thirties, blue eyes, shocking red hair-

"_George?"_

"What did you give me at the end of fourth year?" George demanded.

"Triwizard winnings. 1000 galleons."

"All of you, lower your wands," George ordered in a no nonsense voice, "Don't you know you that is?"

"A filthy necromancer?" One of the Aurors spat, "Probably plotting how to level another town."

Harry said nothing, still staring at George. It had been so long. He hadn't seen any of the Weasley's since the last battle. It was so strange seeing George without Fred, even though so many years had passed.

"That's Harry Potter."

There were gasps, and exclamations of shock. Harry didn't break eye contact with George.

"And he better have a good excuse for running away."

**New chapter, kinda meh, I'm dying of the plague so I'm hiding behind that excuse. I can't breathe through my nose and I sound like a chain smoker. Also IMPORTANT MESSAGE: I am changing my name a teensy bit. DON'T BE ALARMED. Hope you liked the chapter, sorry I took so long. Thanks for reading :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back, and I have discovered that my mind is creepy. I don't even know where this came from. DON'T JUDGE MEEE.**

"Harry Potter? No way, he went missing years ago after he killed the British Dark Lord in that battle, didn't he? After he got his friends killed?" Harry couldn't control the flinch that the American Auror's words caused him. He found he couldn't fault the man, though. He _had _fled after Ron and Hermione had been murdered. And it had been his fault...

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Jones," George spat, brown eyes flaring with unmasked fury, "Just SHUT UP!"

'Jones' stepped back in surprise at the venom in George's voice, seemingly shocked at his reaction. Harry hadn't yet removed his attention from George's face, memory after memory assaulting his mind, guilty conscience flaring up with a vengeance. He swallowed painfully, but did not attempt to flee. George had found him, fair and square, and Harry owed it to him not to take the cowardly route out, no matter how much he wanted to.

Fuck, this was never supposed to happen. He has wanted the Weasley's to forget about him, forget the responsibility they would have felt obligated to have for him after the battle, when every time they would have seen him would have been a reminder at how it was _his_ fault that two of their beloved children had been brutally slaughtered simply because of their involvement with him. But here was George, the mirror image to his deceased brother, whom Harry had last seen laid out in the Great Hall, still and lifeless, surrounded by his grieving, tear stained family. George had been shaking Fred's shoulders, a childish attempt to wake up his brother who looked like he was only sleeping, discounting the grey, lifeless flesh, and the limpness of his body...

"Harry."

He hadn't realised his eyes had fallen shut, wand held limply in his hand, the memories he had so long managed to bury finally returning to the surface.

_It's nothing more than you deserve. _

"Harry, for Merlin's sake, LOOK AT ME!"

Harry opened his eyes immediately, just in time to watch the fair skinned fist descend towards his face. He had ample time to dodge. The amount of training he had received in his life, the untrained punch of an unskilled wizard could be easily avoided.

But Harry let it fall.

White stars erupted in front of his eyes as his head snapped backwards with the force of the blow. Unskilled though he was, George had put quite a lot of force behind the attack. An attack fuelled by anger, an anger that was dearly warranted. Harry let his head fall forward, ignoring the smarting pain of his already bruising left cheek. He contemplated if a normal person would have been knocked to unconsciousness from such a blow.

He waited there, head hanging, for the assault to continue. He, after all, deserved it, did he not? He had fled like a coward that night, refused to take the blame for deaths that he should have stopped. He had had one job. He was the Saviour.

But what Saviour allowed good people to die?

A goddamn shitty one.

No, George could do what he wished. He deserved revenge for the loss of his family members. Harry had escaped justice too long.

And then he was enveloped in a hug, George gripping him tightly, as if unable to believe he was real.

"Goddammit, Harry! WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO? Oh God, we thought you were DEAD. Why, WHY!? I lost Fred, then Ron, AND THEN YOU DISSAPEARED AND WHY DID I HAVE TO LOSE THREE BROTHERS THAT DAY, YOU BASTARD?! Why did you leave!? We searched-" George gave a chocked hiccup, and fell silent, practically strangling Harry with the force of the hug.

".. What?" Harry hadn't even realise he had voiced the question, his voice weak and broken. Had he been in his right state of mind, he would have sneered at the pathetic behaviour he was displaying, and in front of unknown wizards, no less. But right now he wasn't the strong soldier that worked for SHIELD, the man that had stopped countless criminal operations, the best operative SHIELD had ever employed, the motherfucking Master of Death.

No, he was just Harry. The failure of a hero that was the reason he didn't deserve friends. For he only got them killed.

"I see Harry the Angst Machine hasn't been outgrown with age," George commented wryly, pulling back, rubbing reddened eyes, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at his outburst.

Harry stared at him blankly. Where was the violence? Where was the anger? That couldn't have been it. Wait a second, three brothers?!

Harry was suddenly filled with panic. "Oh Merlin, who else is dead? Bill, Charlie, Percy? Oh shit, I'm so sorry George, _so-"_

He was interrupted by another punch to the face. There we go.

"I'm talking about you, you insufferable Flobberworm! You disappeared! Mum almost went insane! We all did! You just disappeared! You were part of our family, IDIOT! Fuck, you still are! For god's sake, Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry stuttered unintelligently.

"I knew you weren't dead," George whispered bitterly, "Not after all that happened. You always were angsting all over the place. I just didn't think you were so STUPID as to think you had to run! You thought we would blame you, didn't you! You absolute MORON!"

Well, this was not how Harry had pictured the reunion between him and his past. He had always pictured more violence, and, well, _anger. _George looked more irritated, and exasperated, and annoyed, and-

"HARRY! Shut off the inner turmoil for a minute, why don't you? Merlin, you'd think you'd have grown up a bit... Which, come to think of it, you haven't. Why do you still look barely into your twenties? Some sort of inheritance you never told us about? Are you part vampire or something?"

"What? No! What the- George- why are you- America! You here? How'd you find me? This is- " he stopped himself, and just stood there, staring at George in shock. Then he raised a hand to his cheek and rubbed it. "Ow."

George raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, mate, but you definitely deserved that. You've been a right old sod the last decade haven't you. THIS is why I tried so hard to find you. I KNEW you were an idiot. Probably been blaming yourself for everything that happened, hero complex stopping you from sleeping at night? America was my last try, to be honest. I've been practically everywhere looking for you. I've been here working this Auror stint for about a month now. Never figured I'd find you because you decided to become a Necromancer though. Although to be honest, it does fit rather well with the brooding, emo, darkly dressed, Angst Machine thing you've got going. Jesus it's practically oozing out of you."

"I have to agree."

Immediately wands were pointed at the newcomer. The Auror's were rather jumpy for trained professionals. Harry wonere absently if any accidental spells would be fired. Nick Fury just raised an eyebrow and then proceeded to ignore them, turning instead to survey the crime scene. "Potter, you seem to be in a state of shock. I assume this ginger haired man is an individual from your past? Good, I had hoped the team would be able to tame the Angst Problem but now I see its being sorted out."

Harry sank to the ground and buried his hands in his dark hair. "What the fuck..." _I don't have an angst problem._

Denials not just a river in Egypt.

George held out his hand to Fury, who shook it calmly, his eye examining his robes and the wand still held in George's hand. "So has he always had the Angst Problem?"

"Oh yeah," George replied with a cheeky grin, it didn't reach his eyes, and he watched Fury for any signs of attack. The actions of a trained soldier. "Always blames himself for everything. I'm rather angry with him at the moment. He left a while back, and he's been rather difficult to track down. It was a fluke I found him today."

" 'm not a Necromancer," Harry growled, the sheer WTF of the moment causing his intelligent brain to abandon him for pastures new.

"Hm," Nick observed, and pulled out his phone, pressing a few buttons before placing it back in his pocket. "Pardon the interruption, but a serious crime crucial to our investigation was just committed here, and my people need to examine the scene, and debrief Agent Potter."

"_Agent _Potter?" George asked, surprised. He whistled appreciatively, and crouched next to Harry, shoving him good naturedly in the shoulder, almost causing him to faceplant into the ground, crouched down as he was, face hidden from the world. "Ickle Harrikins is all growed up! And a super spy! N'aww, baby brother, I'm so proud!" Harry yelped as George pulled him into another hug, pulling him up and spinning him in a circle. "A decade of pranking to catch up on, Harrikins! How did the little Marauder survive so long without Georgey to torture him?"

Harry allowed himself to be spun around, his body limp, his mind oh so confused.

"Whoa Grim, didn't know you swung that way. Literally and metaphorically... Harrikins?"

Clint. This day was just- Fuck...

"George! PUT ME DOWN! And- SHUT UP!"

"Sorry Harry! But this angst needs to be gotten rid of! Subordinates, cast Cheering Charms at Potter!"

The Aurors in the alleyway watched slack jawed as the red haired man who had led them for a month, and had barely showed emotion in all that time, was cackling gleefully as he swung in circles what was supposedly the Saviour of the Wizarding World...

Lab technicians followed Clint into the alley, saw Harry and George, shrugged, and headed deeper into the alley towards the ash piles. This was SHIELD. They had seen worse. The carefully avoided The Great Agent Grim's flailing limbs, and if any of them were smirking beneath their masks, they weren't letting it be known.

It took a bit of manoeuvring, but Harry finally regained his intelligent mind, and easily escaped Georges grasp, flipping backwards an landing on the balls of his feet.

"Oooh," George exclaimed, "Impressive, Harrikins."

Clint sniggered. "Harrikins."

Harry silenced him with a glare that could have burned metal. Barton fell silent, realising that this was more serious a situation than he had thought upon entering the alley.

"George," Harry said in a low voice, so as not to be heard by anyone other than George, Barton and Fury, "Why... why aren't you angry...?"

George's face closed over, and Harry flinched at the lack of emotion. "Oh don't worry, little bro, I'm plenty angry. After you disappeared, and Ron an Fr-Fred died... I blamed myself. Why had I survived and they hadn't? Why was my family destroyed? Why was my mother crying every time she saw me, and was reminded that I wasn't a twin anymore?" The self hatred welled up in Harry, and he averted his eyes from the raw pain in George's eyes. "But then I got over it." Harry's eyes shot back to Georges face, and green eyes widened comically. "I realised that it wasn't my fault. Hell, we were at _war, _Harry. People die in war. I lost family members, yes, but so did countless others. It took years, but I couldn't wallow in self pity. It wasn't helping me, and it certainly wasn't putting my family back together."

Harry's lips parted, and he tried to say something- _anything-_ but found he couldn't. George decided to continue on.

"It was then I realised that you must have run away, rather than been killed. If _I _was feeling like that, I knew Harrikins, the person so prone to self blame and angst, must have felt like EVERYTHING was his fault. I remembered how you were after Sirius, and the look on your face as you watched the spell hit Ron and Hermione. _I knew. _I _knew_ you would have blamed yourself. So I came after you. Took me a while, didn't it?"

Harry blinked, and felt a warm emotion in his chest. He crushed it immediately. So running away hadn't even helped his adoptive family in the slightest-

This time it was a slap.

"Dear God, Harry. I knew the Hero Homplex was part of your 'thing' but this is ridiculous. When you left, you started trying to save people again, didn't you? Became an Agent, determined to stop crime? Well I suppose that was given, it's just the kind of person you are, but I KNOW you did it for stupid reasons, didn't you? In Ickle Harrikin's head, this is atonement, I isn't it?"

It was then the Harry's famous temper was unleashed. "OF COURSE THIS IS ATONEMENT! After all I caused, I don't deserve anything else!"

"Do I need to slap you again?" George asked flatly. Clint was watching the conversation between the two wizards avidly, head flitting right to left as if watching a tennis match. This was Grim's back story? Holy hell.

Harry scowled, the sighed, rubbing tired eyes. "I had expected meeting you again would be... different."

"You expected me to blame you." George's voice was still flat.

"Well... yeah..."

George rolled his eyes. "Harry, _we are family. _Everyone knew what they were getting into when they decided to fight Voldemort. They were fighting him even before you were born! Just because he directly targeted you doesn't mean you are to blame for his murders. That was all him. Not you. Get it? So stop wallowing in angst and move on with your life, because we don't blame you. Why the hell would we? We miss you. Brother."

Harry swallowed painfully, and if he was a crier, he probably would have been blubbering all over the place. But he was Harry Fucking Potter. He might admit to the occasional angst, but he didn't want anyone's pity. It made him feel weak.

He gave George a short nod, and watched the smile that made its way onto the redhead's face. "Okay."

"Thank God," Fury sighed, watching his best agent begin the journey towards overcoming his past. "Potter angst was goddamn annoying."

After Harry had been debriefed, (he decided to omit the fact that the Necromancer Creeper seemed to have a fascination with petting his hair), and was now sitting with George in a cafe down the street from the crime scene, catching up while they waited for George's international portkey to leave. Harry found himself idly watching the nonmagic folk go about their lives in the city outside the window.

"You look a mess, Harry Bear," George commented, sipping a mug of coffee.

Harry glared, and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, wincing as his hand came away dusted with dried blood and the pain the movement had caused his head wound. His neck also ached from the strangulation, and his ribs weren't that great either. "Will you stop calling me names? I missed you too, but Bear? Really?"

"You should have let the Healer in my Auror squad heal you," George informed him, ignoring Harry's complaints. "Head wounds are nasty. It could be serious. I wouldn't want Harrikins to keel over so soon after I found him."

"I wish," Harry muttered, before asking, "You haven't changed much... not like me..."

"Oh I beg to differ," George murmured, "I think this is the first time in a long time I've smiled as much as I have today. Finding you, no matter how much of a plonker you are, has really helped me. I'm ashamed to say I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around since the battle. Not many jokes or pranks, hell, I thought my squad was gonna pee themselves when they saw all those emotions I expressed when we 'reunited'... they probably didn't even know I could laugh..."

"...Sorry."

"Not your fault, Harry Bear, I just don't have much time for that sort of stuff anymore. Job, money, disgustingly adult problems such as TAXES, ugh, its despicable what life is like once you're no longer a baby wizard. I haven't invented something in a while. Now that I know you're safe and I can tell all the others, I might go back to working at the shop again. I've really missed it."

"So you still own the Joke Shop?" Harry asked with a small smile. Then he paused. "You're not going to make me come back with you?"

George sighed, drained the last of the coffee from his cup, then he grabbed Harry's, which he hadn't touched, and drained that as well. "I don't know if I could, Harrikins. I saw you today, talking to those Muggles. It's obvious you like what you do now. You're stopping crimes, and you're saving lives. That's your thing, and you're damn good at it. Why ever would I try to take that away from you? No need to worry, I'll be back in the states once I visit the family, WHICH you will also being doing once this case you're working on is over. Speaking of said case, I will be helping in any way I can. After I talk to the family, of course. Remember, Harry Bear, next time you will be coming too. Mum owes you over a decade of back-breaker hugs. I don't know if you'll get out alive."

Harry laughed genuinely, and stood up to join George as he walked out the door. "I don't think id min dif I didn't. Listen George. Thanks for... everything. You've, well, you broke my mind, but I think now... I dunno..."

"You'll be fine, Harry," George smiled, tousling his dark hair. "Wars are a bitch, and no one made it out unscathed. It was fate that I found you again, and that I knocked some sense into you. If the look on your Boss's face was any indication, the Angst Problem was getting annoying to deal with." He ignored Harry's squawk of indignation, and led them into an alley. "But I think you'll be better now. Once you come home, you'll be even better. So solve the Zombie case, and get on with your life. All the glaring you've been doing will give you horrendous wrinkles by the time you're forty!"

Harry grimaced at the mention of aging, but masked it almost immediately. "When I come back, I need to tell you, the family, some things. The reasons why I ran. I need to explain myself..."

"And you will, once the Necro-numpty is dealt with. I know you, Harry, you need to deal with this first. But that's okay. I know where you live."

"WHAT?"

"Nicky told me. Nice chap, that. He's pretty thankful that I solved the Angst Problem. I expect there will be pleasant Christmas presents from him in the years to come. He seemed eternally grateful. Merlin, Harry Bear, you must have been a nightmare!"

Harry glared at the brick wall beside him. "Angst Problem," Harry growled, "... there wasn't an Angst Problem!"

"Of course there was, Harry! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a Portkey to catch. Fare well, Harry Bear!" And he was gone with a pop.

For a while, Harry stood there in that alley, the noise of traffic seemed somewhat distant to him even though he was very near the street.

In one day, he had found a lead to the case he'd been working on for weeks, the bad guy could creepily possess people and had a penchant for perving on Harry's hair, he could kill people from far away and turn them into zombies, Harry apparently had an 'Angst Problem' but that was okay because George, who had just disappeared after _reappearing _ in his life after go knows how many years, had cured it, and a bunch of Aurors knew that Harry Potter was alive, and were undoubtedly telling the Wizarding community about it... and about the Necromancy... and the Aurors were aware of the town killings... which were probably going to continue... and Harry only knew the name the bastard had given him, Dominus Vitae, who had informed him that Harry would be assisting him in some of his plans...

Fuck. Back to the drawing board. At least this time he had a name.

"Dominus Vitae?" an obnoxious voice questioned from directly behind Harry where he was seated at a computer specifically assigned to him, having been specially developed to deal with his magic. It was quite far away from the other monitors, and already a few of them were sparking. This was the only time Harry ever lamented his volatile power... and that he wasn't able to age because of it, and when- okay, he moaned about it a lot. "What kind of stage name is that? I bet that stripper is U-G-L-Y-"

Harry grabbed the headphones sitting beside the computer, and shoved them roughly over his ears, ignoring the amused glances Starks antics were drawing from the drawn faces of the other agents on the Bridge. The mass killings were getting to everyone. Except Stark, it seemed. But he wasn't involved with what was going on.

"Avengers. Meeting. Now." Fury's voice was heard loud and clear over the intercom.

Stark lifted one side of the headphones away from Harry's ear. "What does he want, Harry _Bear?_" Immediately Harry had him by the neck, shaking him.

"WHO TOLD YOU? It was Clint, wasn't it! I'm gonna _kill _him!"

"Agent Potter, please release Stark. I called a meeting. As amusing as your reaction to Stark's quips are, the matter we discussed earlier must be attended to. With Stark _alive, _preferably." Fury's voice sounded irritated, and Harry reluctantly let Stark own.

"Clint told me the Angst Problem was gone! You still seem pretty grumpy to me..."

Harry's eyebrow twitched with repressed fury, and he stalked away in the direction of the Avengers' Meeting Room. The area was empty, as usual. All the better to murder Stark secretly...

"I do not have an Angst Problem," he growled to himself, ignoring the smirk he could FEEL Stark sending his way. Loud enough so Tony could hear, he pretended to whisper to himself darkly, "Get a grip Harry, killing is wrong..." _He _smirked as the feeling of _Stark's _smirk disappeared.

"Very cruel... Harrikins..."

Harry entered the Meeting Room, followed by Stark, and took his place at the table. Bruce raised his eyes as Harry sat own without a sound.

"... Why aren't you complaining about how much you don't need us?"

Clint laughed evilly, and announce to the now full table, "Because he found his ginger boyfriend today." Natasha's head whipped towards Harry so fast that he was surprised her neck didn't crack, at Clint's words, "Who cured the Angst Prob-!"

With a snarl, Harry was across the table, wings and talons growing from the force of his uncontrollable anger. His attempt to eviscerate Clint was halted by Thor grabbing the back of his black shirt and placing him firmly back in his chair. Harry croaked, reminiscent of a raven, in indignation as a wing was bent painfully against the back of the chair. So many emotions today.

"Potter!" Fury barked out in irritation, "When Mr. Weasley told me that he had helped you deal with the problems in your past, I didn't think it would cause you to lose all semblance of control over your temper! Was this what you were like before?"

Harry immediately calmed himself, bird appendages disappearing, and a cold mask appearing over him face. "My apologies, Director. Today has been a... trying day." His head slowly turned to Clint, who sunk low in his chair, "And George is my, well, he is practically my brother. Any comments claiming otherwise are ill advised." He didn't stop the feral snarl that made itself known. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha relax from the tense position she had been in. Odd.

Fury sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Now, back to the reason I have brought you here. As you know, Agent Potter has been involved in a case that the Avengers were not made aware of. I'm afraid that due to recent events, it has been decided that the team will be brought in to assist Potter in this assignment."

"You know," Stark commented, fiddling with the Rubik's cube that had materialised in his hands during Fury's declaration, "I think I liked Moody-Silent-Glaring Harry to Anger-Explosion Harry."

"... I don't want the teams help..." Harry, of course, was ignored.

"What's the case?" Steve asked curiously.

Fury cleared his throat, before beginning. "As you know, Agent Potter has been involved in this case for quite some time. We were reluctant to involve anyone but Potter in this case because of its... magical origin. The enemy is a wizard like Potter," A growl, "An evil wizard unlike Potter in any way, who has been committing mass murders in secluded towns throughout the country, which have been occurring regularly over the past millennia. Unlike past centuries, rather than one act, a number have occurred, and the death toll is rising rapidly."

"So a mass murderer? How is this case different than what we have dealt with before? Why can't Agent Potter handle it?" Natasha asked calmly.

"Because the Necromancer bastard is raising the corpses as zombies," Harry interjected dully. "I feel every single murder performed by his _sick_ rituals, but by the time I get there, the deed has been done, and the town is empty or full of shambling corpses that I have to destroy. No one is spared. Men, women, _children," _Harry's mouth twisted," He doesn't care. He goes by the name 'Dominus Vitae' according to one Fergus Fletcher, recently deceased, and he seems interested in involving me with his plans, meaning that I can't do this alone in case he achieves that."

"This wizard is capable of defeating you?" Thor asked.

Harry shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. "This guy is centuries old. He's had hundreds of years to perfect his magic, and I've had barely two decades. He won't be able to kill me, but... he could cause much worse with me."

"What do you mean, he could cause much worse 'with you'?" Bruce asked, perplexed by Harry's choice of words.

"He told me that they're lives had to be sacrificed so he could live. He's performing rituals with these lives... the only reason I can think of is that he's using these deaths to fuel his own life. It must be what he meant. And if he knows rituals concerning power and life forces? Go knows what he could do with mine."

"Wait, I thought you said that wizards aged slow, or something?" Steve sounded suspicious. He could tell Harry was hiding something. "And why would your 'life force' differ from that of any other wizard's?"

Harry stared down at the table, mulling over whether or not he should inform them of his 'affliction'.

"When I said that wizards age slower than nonmagics, I was telling the truth. My Headmaster was well on his way to reaching two hundred before he was killed. I on the other hand, well, basically I don't age at all."

"What?!" five voices cried out.

"It was an accident," Harry scowled, "I can't age, and it's because of who I am. I'm the Master of Death." Harry knew Thor was the only one who understood the significance of the title, and just shook his head at the questions. "It doesn't matter what that entails," the look on Fury's face said otherwise, "What matters is that 'Dominus Vitae' seems to know whoI am, and he seems rather... interested." Natasha's sharp gaze was on him again, but he ignored it, distracted instead by the next comment made by Banner.

"Dominus Vitae. And you're the 'Master of Death'. You have a title. Dominus Vitae isn't a name, it's a title too. It's Latin. It means-"

The door to the meeting room slammed open, causing them all to spring out of their chairs into defensive positions, weapons pointed.

"Lord of Life."

Harry glared into the murky red eyes of the corpse that was now the host to Mr. Necromancer and standing in the doorway. "Just can't keep away, can you," Harry spat venomously. The head of the corpse, that of a woman, a new recruit by the look of the uniform, turned towards Harry, neck bending in a grotesque manner.

"Harry, dear," the double voice of a raspy woman and the deep baritone of a man overlapping each other, producing a sound that cause Harry to feel cold with dread. "I simply couldn't stay away. Not after my last visit ended so abruptly. I wanted to check up on how much progress you've made, and my, once again I'm sorely disappointed. I had so hoped you'd have found me by now, but nonono, still alone. Still... disappointed."

With a snarl, Harry threw a knife at the corpse in frustration. Of course, like with the other corpse, nothing happened. It was a dead body after all.

"Potter," Fury demanded sharply, "Burn it."

"Oh but you can't! Then I won't give Harry my clue! I came all this way for you, Harry. I would _hate _to be rejected." The corpse pouted, and congealed blood oozed sickeningly out of its mouth.

"I think you left something out during your telling of your last encounter," Natasha said, watching the corpse with narrowed eyes and it stared at Harry with obvious fascination.

"Not really... well... the bad guy may, or may not, find me attractive. It didn't seem important at the time..."

"DIDN'T SEEM IMPORTANT?!"

The corpse chuckled ominously, and shuffled further into the room. Clint immediately shot it with an arrow, and Thor threw his hammer. Shots were fired from both guns in the room, and Harry watched, already knowing the outcome.

The horrific laughter continued even though the corpse was rather... messy... after the assault. The ribcage was caved in, and holes dotted its body. An arrow was sticking out of where the heart should be, but a broken arm merely reached up and ripped it out.

It was a dead body after all.

The wheezing laugh continued, and Harry's wand appeared in his wand. Fire was the only answer, and that's what the Zombie Thing was gonna get.

"Wait!" It croaked.

Harry paused, and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want to find me?"

Harry glared, and gritted his teeth. "Fine. Where do I find you?"

The corpse smiled again, "I'll tell you... on one condition."

"What condition?" he spat out suspiciously, "What do you want?"

"I think we both know what I want, Harry, but for now I will settle for... an embrace?"

Simultaneous cries of "Hell no!" and "Not a chance!" rang out from Harry's team. Harry himself remained silent, his eyes locked with the blood red ones across the room that continued to watch him, hungrily.

This case... Harry hadn't felt this much hatred since Voldemort. He wanted, no, _needed, _to kill this- _Abomination._

He was in a team now, wasn't he? There was a saying, 'Take one for the team.' Well, Fury had said a team would be good for him. Harry wasn't so sure. This team seemed to bring out masochistic tendencies.

"... Alright."

"WHAT? Harry, you stay away from that corpse, young man, you hear me?" Tony yelled. The others made their opinions on the matter known, but Harry blocked them out, and began moving towards the corpse. That's all it was, a corpse. No big deal. He'd just have to ignore it when the corpse... _hugged... _him.

Tony tried to grab him, but a wave of his wand later, and every ones' shoes were stuck to the floor. Their protests were getting louder, but Harry ignored them, keeping his eyes fixed on the corpse growing closer and closer, the crazed, bloody smile growing wider and wider.

Eventually, Harry was standing within arms distance, his face twisted into an expression of disgust and anger, unwilling to move any closer.

"Oh Harry, dear, you don't look very happy. Let me cheer you up. I promise I won't hurt you." Mangled arms encircled him, the bone in one having escaped the dead skin, the sharp body part digging painfully into his back. The corpse stepped in close, so close that Harry could smell the rotting scent coming from the body. The woman could have only been killed during the meeting to have gotten in undiscovered, but Vitae's possession of the body must have accelerated decomposition.

The dented head burrowed itself into the curve of Harry's neck and shoulder, and he scrunched his eyes closed as he felt the thick blood seep from the corpse's mouth onto his neck. Blood was staining the back of his shirt as well, and he suppressed a wince caused by the broken lips running along the bruises that twined his neck, the result of his earlier encounter with Vitae.

"You wish to know where I am, dearest?" The words were rasped into the side of his neck, and Harry crushed the desire to violently escape the hold, feel very vulnerable with this _thing's_ mouth at his jugular.

He nodded shortly, and the arms wrapped even tighter around him, constricting his breathing.

"Well there's a thing you need to know first, dearest."

"What's that?" he asked flatly, ignoring the want to gasp for air as his ribcage was crushed even tighter.

The next words were a whisper.

"I lie."

Blunt human teeth bit viciously into his neck. He snarled, yanking his head backwards, trying to dislodge the corpse. The teeth ripped from his flesh, and he wildly tore at the arms holding him. Getting his wand arm free, he pointed it at the corpse, and yelled, "INCENDIO!"

The corpse gave a screaming laugh as it was set alight, burning like paper. Harry managed to free himself, the front of his t-shirt slightly burnt but otherwise unharmed. His hand immediately rose to grasp at his bleeding neck, and he watched with savage satisfaction as the corpse was reduced to ash in a matter of seconds.

_Where am I? Now you'll never know._

He pointed his wand at himself, hurriedly healing the wound at his neck that was spurting blood. _Stupid, stupid, STUPID. _He wouldn't die, of course, but as always, injuries hurt like a bitch. He also unstuck his teams feet and braced himself for the chewing out he knew he was about to receive.

The tension was broken, as usual, by Stark.

"He must reeeally like you. You're gonna have that hickey for days."

Harry didn't regret turning Tony into a lamp. He didn't think he ever would.


	10. Chapter 10

**An update! I know! This is madness! I've had so many jobs this summer! I'm rich! XD Thank you for not coming to Ireland, tracking me down and killing me in my sleep because I haven't updated in so long :) I appreciate it! It's insanely warm here right now, like 25 degrees Celsius and its the hottest weather Ireland's ever had, well, EVER IN THE HISTORY OF IRISH WEATHER. I am not joking, it was on the news. Also, peoples be disliking pairings in the story, so I'm gonna just go with no pairings now and a bit of flirting ;) Anyways, on with the story!**

Harry slumped dejectedly back into his chair as he watched the meeting room fill with agents and scientists. The ash that had been the possessed corpse was being carefully collected by the white coat clad individuals, and Harry sighed as he watched Fury yelling orders at the agents, instructing them to search the whole Helicarrier to make sure no one else was dead.

"You should probably deal with that," Natasha's said, her voice interrupting his quiet observation of the room. He blinked in confusion for a moment before noticing the lamp in front of him, and smirked as it hopped up and down angrily.

Well, as angrily as a lamp could hop. Harry guessed it was with anger, but you never know with lamps.

"I think he's fine how he is," Harry replied, his smirk widening as he knocked the lamp over, and watched it roll around in circles in an attempt to right itself.

"Potter," she warned, but Harry could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Fine, fine." Glancing around the full room, Harry picked up the furious lamp and placed it under the table, out of view. With a wave of his wand, Stark was returned to his true form. There was a loud _thunk, _and a considerably less cheerful Tony Stark emerged from beneath it.

"I admit, that may have been deserved, but did it really have to be a lamp? Do you have any idea what you have done? How am I ever supposed to look at a lamp in the same way ever again?! You have no idea how much they suffer!"

"Tony, normal lamps aren't sentient."

"You don't understand..."

They were interrupted by Fury ushering the last agent from the room, leaving the Avengers alone once again.

"Well that was an unexpected interruption," Clint commented, yawning as he did so. "Why can't we ever get sane villains? We do they always have to be batshit crazy?"

Everyone shrugged, not knowing the answer to that question, and they all sat down once again.

"Back to what we were discussing before the distraction," Fury announced, eyeing the scorched area of floor in the middle of the room, "The team will be joining Grim on his mission to bring down the individual classified as 'Dominus Vitae'. As you have seen, he has control over the dead, a talent called Necromancy, and he is immortal. The source of his immortality is the lives he steals from the people he murders, an event that occurs once every hundred years. Unfortunately, these events are now being conducted only months apart from each other. Potter has informed me that the bodies of the individuals from which the life energy is stolen are being resurrected as what we can only label as zombies, for lack of a better name, and that since some of the towns used in these rituals were discovered empty, Vitae may be assembling an army. Did I cover everything, Potter?"

Harry nodded, and ran a hand through his hair. "This guy isn't like other wizards. He isn't even like other Necromancers. My source of information about him was killed before I could get much more than a name. Vitae was able to kill him from what I assume was a fair distance away without a direct spell. My guess is he has a method of killing that is known only by him. Perhaps a death spell that can be activated from afar. Because of this, we have to be extremely careful. I will need to create wards around the team, and if I can, the rest of SHIELD's employees. For all we know, he could wipe us out whenever he wants to."

"Then why hasn't he?" Steve asked. "I mean, if he can kill the only people who pose a threat to him, why doesn't he just kill us?"

"He's having fun," Bruce murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You saw the way he interacted with Harry. He was enjoying himself. Harry, you said yourself that this guy must be well over eight centuries old. I would imagine he would be pretty bored by now. Also, he calls himself Dominus Vitae, which directly translates to Lord of Life. You are the Master of Death. I would imagine you are the first thing that has caught his attention in a long time."

Everyone fell quiet, contemplating what Bruce had just said. Harry himself couldn't find any flaws in this deduction. All the times he had come into contact with Vitae, it had seemed as if the creepy bastard was playing with him. He was obviously relishing messing with Harry, and Harry hated it. It was like Voldemort all over again. Snake Face used to love manipulating Harry. It never ended well.

People died.

"He wants _us_ to play with _him_," Harry said, rolling the Elder wand between his palms, feeling the urge to hex Vitae into oblivion if only he could get his hands on him. "He came here to make sure we'd search for him harder. He wants to be found because he doesn't believe we can stop him."

"And he wants you, it would seem," Thor intoned. "We can use this to our advantage. His weakness is his want for you to join his cause."

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Can we please talk about the perverted old man's intentions towards yours truly? I'd rather not vomit with an audience."

Clint snickered, and Harry felt his lip curl with amusement in response to the sound.

Bruce stood up abruptly, and moved to examine the patch of scorched floor, the aftermath of Harry's spell. He knelt beside in, and once again stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tony and I should examine one of these 'zombies'. Harry will have to help us. Perhaps if we find what is used to, shall we say, 'power' these corpses, we can find a way to neutralise that power. Without his army, Vitae will be a lot easier to take down."

"Good idea, Banner," Fury said, and stood up, immediately claiming all of their attention. "Potter, I want you to use your magic mojo to locate some of these zombies. If we can find them, we can find our test subjects. Romanoff, Barton, Rogers and Thor, you will go with him and obtain a subject each. Do not, under any circumstance, destroy the zombie, because we need them active for this experiment to work."

Harry snorted, "You make finding them sound so easy. I've been trying for months, Director."

"What about us?" Tony asked, speaking up for the first time, indicating himself and Banner. "With that ash, maybe we could create device to locate any of the same material present on the planet."

Fury nodded sharply, "Alright. Stark and Banner, get to work. The rest of you, you're on standby until this device is operational."

Harry frowned as Tony and Bruce hurriedly left. How could Muggle technology succeed in locating magical creatures when magic itself had failed? He had been searching for over a year, and all he had to show for it was a pile of files and records. And a lot of headaches.

Fury stood up and swept out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Get the fuck off of your collective asses. Goddamn lazy heroes." There were grumbles and mutterings throughout the room as everyone left, heading out to collect the gear they would be needing to apprehend the shambling corpses. Harry unhurriedly walked away from the others, stuffing his hands into his pockets and sighed tiredly. He couldn't help but feel like things were going nowhere. He had spent so long trying to bring this guy down, and still, with all his power, he had nothing. He sighed again, except this time with frustration. If all of his tracking spells and death magics were incapable of finding Vitae, why the hell would technology? In Harry's opinion, magic was far more superior. You could do absolutely ANYTHING with magic. Even places as far away as Asgard had magic in favour of technology. The staff Loki had used during the invasion-

Wait.

The _staff._

The staff Banner and Stark had located with their technology!

The negative emotions that had been building in Harry began to dissipate. If they had found the staff, perhaps it wasn't so far-fetched to believe that they could find Vitae's undead army. Perhaps they wouldn't have to solely rely on Harry to defeat Vitae.

Harry began to take in his surroundings again and found himself outside the door to Loki's cell. He blinked in surprise that his mindless wanderings had led him to such a place, and shook his head. Flashing some ID to the slightly perplexed guard at the door, and Harry was inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. He glanced around the room, noting that it was as bland and boring as it had been before, and then smirked with amusement at the sight of the great trickster god Loki lying face-down on the cell's only bed. There was only one word to describe the god at that moment.

Bored.

Loki's head swivelled around at the loud thud the door made upon closing, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Harry.

"And so the great and mighty Master of Death deigns to grace me with his oh so magnificent presence," Loki drawled, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "It's been what, less than a week? Can't get enough of me? Or are the mortals ready to send me home yet?"

"Lovely to see you too, darling," Harry laughed, strolling across the room and sitting down to straddle the chair in the corner of the room to the right of Loki's bed. He crossed his arms in front of him and rested them on the chairs back, plonking his head on top of them and closing his eyes without saying another word.

They both sat in silence for a while, Harry relaxed, and Loki confused. A few minutes into the quiet and Loki sighed in defeat, realising Harry wasn't planning on saying a thing, and he would have to speak first if he wanted to stop the monotonous existence his life had become while alone in his prison.

"Alright, why are you here Potter? And it better be for some interesting reason, because being in this room is so mind numbingly boring that I am actually considering whistling. Did you know that I despise whistling? It is one of the single most _irritating_ noises a person is capable of making, and this prison is driving me to it. I swear on Asgard that if I whistle, there will be hell to pay..."

Harry, whose eyes had opened sometime during the middle of Loki's tirade, gaped hopelessly for a moment, before scrunching up his face in confusion.

"Why the _hell_ do you hate whistling?"

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT! For the love of Odin- no wait, I don't want that- For the love of Loki, give me something interesting to do in this Hel-forsaken room! I HAVE NEVER BEEN THIS BORED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! IT'S JUST A STUPID WHITE BOX! THERE AREN'T EVEN ANY TILES TO COUNT!" With a frustrated yell, Loki's head slammed into his pillow.

"..."

"Just... why are you here, Potter?"

Harry stared at the god with wide eyes for a moment before replying. "Err, I kind of don't have anything to do as I'm on standby waiting for my next mission, so I just ended up here, I guess. No real reason..."

Loki growled in irritation, still not moving his face away from the poor, abused pillow. "Well isn't that just perfect. Have they forgotten I'm even HERE?" His voice was slightly muffled.

Harry thought about for a moment. "Actually, yeah, maybe. We're dealing with a world-threatening problem right now. Immortal guy trying to cause doom and destruction, you know, that kinda thing. You know how it is. Speaking of immortal guys, why are you here? I thought SHIELD would have shipped you back to Asgard by now."

"I would be," Loki muttered darkly, "If my blond buffoon of an adoptive brother hadn't decided to stay on Midgard with his-," Loki's lip curled with distaste, "-_woman."_

"Oh yeah, Thor has that scientist lady, Jane Something-er."

"Yes," Loki hissed, his eyes narrowing. "And because of that woman, I am to be kept in this room until he decides to leave, with no magic, and no intelligent conversation. If it wasn't for her, I would be back in Asgard right now, and knowing the Allfather, all that would have happened would be a few years imprisonment. At least then, I would have something to _do. _In Asgard, prisoners are given books and the like to amuse themselves. HERE, THEY WENT AND FORGOT ABOUT ME!"

Harry winced in sympathy for the man. He also felt quite a bit of guilt. He hadn't gone to check up on Loki after their last chat. He had just assumed Loki had been carted off back to Asgard. Hadn't Stark finished the machine to send them yet? Trying to find Vitae really had consumed all of Harry _and_ SHIELD's time. "I'll talk to Fury about sorting all this out. Yeah, sorry about this. You have no idea what we've been dealing with the last couple months. This psycho is going around razing towns to the ground to gain the life forces of the towns occupants to extend his own life, the sick fuck."

Loki lifted his head out of the pillow for a moment and looked at Harry with interest. "He is stealing lives to extend his own? So the large magical outbursts I have been sensing are him?"

"Wait, wait, _what? _You can sense them? I thought this room blocks your magic?"

"Fool," Loki said, without any real venom, "It merely blocks me from using my magic. I can still feel it, and yet, whenever I try to use it... it just... it slips through my fingers..." He stared at his hands for a moment, his brow furrowed with the feeling of loss that his lack of magic caused him.

Harry frowned at the floor, deep in thought. Loki could sense it too?

"Hey, how often do you feel him? Is it every so often, or is it-?"

"I feel his cruel magic nearly constantly," Loki informed him, his face once again a calm mask. "The strength changes and moves, but it is always there."

"So he must use his magic constantly to control his undead minions," Harry said to himself softly.

"Undead minions?" Loki asked with interest.

"Yeah. All those people whose lives he stole? Well, you can't call the guy wasteful. He raises the corpses, uses them for what we can only guess is an army... Or a fucking HUGE undead harem."

"Draugr?"

"Pretty similar, except for how they're powered. At first I thought they might just be Inferi, you know, a mindless body controlled by the spell used to animate them, but these things fucking _talked _to me. They knew who I was, _what_ I was. Creepy as hell."

"That _is_ rather interesting," Loki said eagerly. "Why have you not simply located them and destroyed them?"

"I can't!" Harry exclaimed angrily, missing the sly looking on Loki's face, "It's like I'm being blocked! No matter what spell I try, whether it already exists or something I made myself with my powers, _I can't find the bastard._

"How frustrating," Loki smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. "If only you knew someone who has known the location of the spell caster this entire time..."

Harry looked up slowly, and glared at Loki. "What do you want."

"I would like to accompany you. I have been kept here for far too long. I am bored. Hel, I would accept a summer vacation to _Jotunheim _at this point_. _And of course, if I assist you in this problem, the mortals can hardly imprison me any longer. You do not treat your allies like this."

"You want to help..."

"I want to bargain for my freedom by use of my skills."

"You magical prostitute, you."

"Call me what you will, but I will not stay imprisoned any longer!"

"You tried to take over the world!"

"Oh hush. EVERYONE wants to take over the world."

"You led an alien invasion!"

"Which failed, mind you. It's not like anything _too _bad came of it."

"Aliens! In Manhattan! A wormhole across the galaxy above Stark Tower!"

"It looked rather impressive, didn't it?"

"It did actually-wait, hang on!"

Loki rolled his eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Let me get this straight," Harry said, standing up to pace around the small cell. "You will lead us to this guy if we allow you to assist us as payment for your freedom? You'll help us in exchange for being let out of your cell? How do we know you won't just lead another invasion?"

Loki waved a hand dismissively. "That is ridiculous. The Chitauri are most likely out for my blood, and besides, you and your group of misfits have proven that this world is relatively well protected. I am not the type to fight a losing battle. Who do you take me for, _Thor?"_

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose and eyed Loki thoughtfully. Loki stared back with a small smirk.

"... I'll talk to Fury. Keep in mind that he most likely won't accept this idea."

Loki just looked at him. "Like that would stop you from helping me escape and heading out to stop him yourself. I can see it in your eyes, Master of Death. You wish to bring about this man's demise more than anything else. You will reason that the ends justify the means. If we stop him, I will have redeemed myself in the eyes of SHIELD, and a dangerous threat will have been dealt with. Make your choice, Wizard."

Harry stared into Loki's blue eyes, examining him critically. "Your people call you the God of Lies."

"Your point?"

"You could betray me."

Loki scoffed. "I thought I already made it apparent that I am not Thor. I will not fight a battle that I can't win."

"You didn't win your war with us."

Loki looked down, "Perhaps I did not wish to win it as much as I thought I did in the beginning."

Harry dropped his face into his hands and groaned. "You know, we could just torture you until you agreed to help us?"

Loki sneered, "The mortals' attempts are nothing compared to the techniques developed by others in this universe. The Chitauri..." Loki broke off, and Harry eyed him with suspicion. "They... they are quite skilled." He broke off and stood up suddenly, shaking his head. "Another time, perhaps. You, Potter. Go approach your leader. Who knows when the killer will strike again."

Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Clint is not gonna like this."

**Thanks for sticking with me, guys! I'm doing my best with the story, but I kept forgetting what I've written :L I lost m plot notes and frantically searched for them coz they haz all mah planz in them :O Thanks for reading! **


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